Hot Tree Guy
by dontlookdontask
Summary: Bella has a tiny apartment, a dwindling savings fund, and a giant dog. All she wants is a nice little Christmas tree. A/H, canon couples.
1. December 1st

_This is a reasonably short story that will post in less than ten chapters. Thanks for reading!_

* * *

December 1st. 68 degrees. Time to buy a Christmas tree.

I didn't expect to be decorating for Christmas in nearly tropical weather when I moved to New York City ten months ago, but I didn't expect a lot of things when I moved to New York. I knew it wouldn't be easy to find a job in publishing, but I didn't expect to be reaching the end of my third consecutive three-month internship. I knew it wouldn't be easy to find an apartment I could afford – especially one that allows my giant dog – but I didn't expect to be priced out of the city entirely. The upside of living in New Jersey is that everything is cheaper. The downside is the look everyone gives you when you tell them you live in New Jersey.

Anyway, after adjusting for proximate-to-but-not-in-New-York-City prices, I figure I'll be paying $300 for a tree smaller than me. I've been eyeballing the tree lot a couple blocks from my building every day since it went up a week ago. The trees are unimpressive compared to the trees my dad used to put up, but that's one thing that didn't surprise me – when it comes to trees, you can't do better than the Olympic Peninsula. And since I'll have to carry the tree back to my apartment myself, I can't even say I mind how short they are.

Every time I've passed the tree lot, it's been empty, but of course, when I get there with $300 burning a hole in my pocket, it's overrun with excited children and harried parents. After wandering around for a while, I surmise that I need to talk to one of the three giant bearded men who can lift trees with one hand. I hang back for a while, waiting for the families to dissipate, but there always seems to be another one. I'm considering leaving when a woman even smaller than me appears in front of me.

"Hi!" she exclaims. "Hi?" I respond, while searching my memory to see if I've ever met her. I've met lots of people since moving here, but haven't really gotten to know anyone well.

"Are you looking for a tree?" I can't picture this woman picking up a tree with one hand, but it makes sense that she works here. No one in New York is spontaneously friendly unless they're trying to sell something.

"Yeah, just a small tree. I have to carry it a few blocks by myself. Something sturdy that smells good?"

She tilts her head and eyes me up and down. I would find it invasive if anyone else did it, but she seems harmless.

"You don't have to worry about carrying it. I'll make one of my brothers carry it home for you. If that's not an issue, what would your preference be?"

I consider for a moment before answering. The most important thing since I moved here is always price, but I'm wary about telling her what my budget is. I was raised by a cop, so I don't think I'm very naïve, but I'm always nervous about negotiating prices.

"Well, I've got $200 to spend. That's the most important thing. I don't have a very big apartment, and I have a big dog with a strong tail, so a small tree will probably do less damage when he inevitably knocks it over."

"Hmmm," she murmurs while looking around. "Well, a small tree might do less damage, but a larger tree is less likely to fall over to begin with, especially if you can anchor it to a wall. Do you have a corner you can put the tree in? You just need twine and a couple screws to attach it to the wall. Come look at these."

She leads me over to a bunch of Balsam firs, and after she spends another ten minutes extolling the virtues of large trees, she's convinced me I need a six and a half foot tall tree. I'm a little nervous when I ask her how much it'll cost, but delighted when she tells me it'll be $150. She leaves me by the tree and promises to send one of her brothers over to help me with it.

While I wait, I watch the three giant dudes who must be her brothers. The biggest one reminds me of the Hulk – tall and muscular everywhere, with dark hair and eyes and dimples. He's loud and friendly, which I know because he's so loud. The second is just as tall as the first, but much leaner. He's wearing a beanie, which seems an odd choice on a sunny spring-like day, but he appears to have lighter hair and eyes. He's much quieter, and I don't see him smile once. The third is the smallest, though he's still almost a foot taller than I am. He's blond and lanky, but lifts the trees as easily as his brothers. He talks less than the loud one, but smiles easily. He's far less intimidating than the other two, so I'm a little disappointed when I see Alice heading my way with Beanie.

"My name's Alice, by the way," she announces when she gets to me. "This is Edward," she explains while waving over her shoulder at Beanie. "He'll be happy to carry your tree home for you." She looks over her shoulder. "Even if he doesn't look like it." Edward rolls his eyes in response, which calls my attention to his eyes, which are a beautiful seafoam green, light enough that they could appear blue in different light. He also has incredible bone structure, as best I can tell under the scruffy reddish brown beard.

"I'm Bella. Thanks so much for the help, there's no way I could get a tree this big otherwise." Edward just grunts in response and I think, for the 300th time since moving to the city, what a shame it is that the prettiest guys are always jerks.

Alice points out the tree I bought and Edward bends and picks it up in one smooth motion. It's amazing. I could watch him pick up trees all day long. Alice talks my ear off while he ties up the tree, and then hugs me before we leave. It's odd, but not surprising after spending a half hour with Alice. For a tiny elf of a woman, Alice's hug is vicelike, and I briefly reconsider whether she could lift a tree with one hand while Edward and I set off for home.

Since Edward appears to be mute, I spend most of the walk home picturing the current state of my apartment, since I wasn't expecting visitors when I left for the tree lot. At 515 square feet, my apartment starts to close in around me if it gets too messy, so I keep it pretty clean, but there's always the possibility that a stack of clean underwear is still sitting on the dining room table from my last load of laundry. And with a giant troublemaker of a dog, there's always a possibility he's pulled out dirty laundry to chew on. Speaking of…

"I should warn you about my dog," I say to the mute walking next to me who seems less bothered by the large tree on his shoulder than I am by carrying my purse. He grunts, which I take as an invitation to keep talking, or do anything I want, really.

"He's very large, and he jumps on people, which can be scary because he's so big. But he's a lover, not a fighter. If he jumps on you, it's only because he wants to lick your face. But if you don't like it, just push him off you and he won't do it again."

"What's his name?" I hear from beside me, and I look around for a moment to make sure the sound came from my no-longer-mute companion.

"Samson," I reply. He just grunts in response, and I'm glad we're at my building since it appears our conversation is over.

"You might want to put the tree down," I suggest when we get to my front door. "In case Samson knocks you over. Actually, if you just want to leave the tree in the hall, I can pull it the rest of the way."

Edward sets down the tree, but shakes his head. "Nah. I'll hear about it from Alice if I don't bring it all the way in."

"How will she know?" I ask, and he scoffs.

"She'll know."

When I open the door and Samson comes out paws first, I'm glad Edward set down the tree. Standing on his back legs, my Newfoundland comes right to the middle of Edward's chest, but Edward doesn't budge. I'm completely surprised when he bends over to let Samson lick his face and starts talking to him. Edward has a whole actual conversation with my dog, standing right there in the hallway. I guess he's just not a people person. Or maybe he's not a Bella person.

When Samson gets tired of standing on his back legs and is back on the floor, Edward turns back to me.

"Do you have your stand ready to go? If you know where you want the tree to go, I can help you set it up in the stand."

"Sure, yeah, of course." I hurry ahead of him to grab the stand, which means I miss him picking up the tree in one quick move. Oh well.

With Edward's help, the tree is up in just a couple minutes. He lifts it into the stand and positions it, and then has me hold it while he fixes the screws. It's remarkable how easy it is – my recent experience putting up trees with my dad always involved lots of swearing and scratches and occasionally patching up holes in the drywall. When we're done, he shows me where I should affix screws in order to anchor the tree to the wall.

I try to tip him before he leaves, but Edward refuses. Then he bends down and spends two minutes saying goodbye to Samson while I stare at them. I know my dog's cute – people stop us on walks all the time to meet him. I just didn't expect it from Edward.

When he stands up, he fixes me with those incredible eyes. "Bye, Bella."

I think I stop breathing. He may not be much of a conversationalist (with humans), but he sure is beautiful. "Bye, Edward. Thanks for everything. I really appreciate it."

After Edward leaves, I cut open the tree and rotate it a couple times to find the best side. I only have enough lights for a smaller tree, so I make it two-thirds of the way up the tree before stopping. When I get out of the shower later, I find the tree on its side and Samson in the bedroom refusing to look at me.


	2. December 4th

_Thanks to everyone who's reading and reviewing! I don't know how you all found this little story, but it's very exciting for me! Here's some back story…_

* * *

The day after I bought my tree, I happened to take Samson past the tree lot on his evening walk. I wasn't planning on stopping – I'm content to enjoy eye candy from a distance, especially when the eye candy has made clear he doesn't want to talk to me. Samson had other ideas, though. As soon as he spotted Edward, he pulled his leash out of my hand and raced (as much as a giant oaf can race) to his new friend. And damned if I didn't see Edward crack a smile when Samson's humongous paws landed on his chest. Which left me apologizing awkwardly to the couple who had been talking to Edward, who were now eyeing Samson nervously.

Thankfully, Alice appeared out of nowhere with the blond brother, who distracted the couple from the furry behemoth. Then Alice started talking, asking about the tree, and Edward's delivery services (cue Edward rolling his eyes), and my dog, and the weather, and before I knew it, I had agreed to have dinner with her. Well, "agreed" might be the wrong word – she basically announced to me and her brother that we'd be having dinner Friday, which prompted Edward to roll his eyes, hand over Samson's leash and walk away. I spent a couple days wondering whether "we" included Edward, but finally decided that there was no way Edward would agree to go to dinner with me, unless he and Samson got their own table.

Regardless, I'm still nervous when I leave my apartment to meet Alice for dinner. I've dealt with lots of aggressive personalities since moving to New York, but they're typically most aggressively interested in themselves, not in other people. I might be facing the Spanish Inquisition, but it would be nice to make a friend who doesn't live 2500 miles away.

When I get to the tree lot, Alice introduces me to her brothers, Emmett (the giant) and Jasper (the blonde). She also introduces me to Edward's friend James, who works at the lot on weekends. He's clean shaven and his hair has more product in it than mine does, and when he meets me he gives me this sneering smirk that he probably mistakes for charming. Edward walks up to ask where my dog is, then turns on his heel and walks away when I say he's at home, so I think I'm really growing on him. And then Alice gives Jasper a decidedly un-brotherly kiss when we leave, so I'm pretty sure I've drawn the family tree wrong.

Since it's fresh on my mind, I ask Alice about her family as soon as sit down at a bistro around the corner from the tree lot. It turns out Emmett and Edward are her older brothers, and Jasper is her fiancé, but she doesn't wear the ring on the lot because of all the sap and dirt. (And I again think about the possibility of Alice hefting a tree on to her shoulder like her brothers.) Alice's parents bought the tree farm in the 1970s when they moved to Vermont. Alice's mom runs the tree farm, and her father is a small town doctor. Emmett's the oldest son, and he and his wife Rosalie will eventually run the farm. When they aren't selling Christmas trees, Alice and Jasper work at a restaurant in Vermont, which they're saving up to buy from the current owner. Edward actually lives here (I try not to visibly perk up when she mentions this, and probably fail), and they all crash at his place for a month when the tree lot is operational. They used to sell their trees wholesale, but her sister-in-law Rose looked into the costs and benefits of opening their own lot when she was getting her MBA, and they opened the Hoboken lot three Christmases ago. They still sell more trees wholesale than retail, but they make more on the retail lot and they might expand the retail business in the future.

By the time Alice is done talking about her family, we've finished our appetizers and our entrees have arrived. I distract her for another twenty minutes by asking about the plans for her wedding in the spring, which will somehow be small, intimate and over-the-top. If anyone can hit that bullseye, I'm sure it's Alice. She doesn't seem to have completely lost perspective, though – when I laugh at some of the more outrageous things she mentions, she laughs with me, and she doesn't repeat meaningless platitudes like "it's my day" and "you only get married once" over and over again, like some bridezillas I've known.

I've relaxed more and more throughout dinner, partly due to the drinks we've ordered and partly due to the fact that I've forestalled the inquisition. But when Alice orders dessert, I know my time has come.

"Well, Bella, you've successfully distracted me for an hour by preying on my willingness to talk about myself. What about you? How long have you lived in Hoboken?"

"I moved here last February from a small town in Washington. I came to give myself a shot at my dream job in publishing, but I haven't found my dream job. I've had a few internships, but the one I have now ends at the end of December and I don't have anything lined up for January. My lease will be up soon, so I'll have to make a decision soon about whether I give this another year or not."

"That's depressing," she responds, and I have to agree. "Do you like living in New York?"

"Well, I don't actually live in New York, as people who do live in New York tell me. Um, I'm glad I gave it a shot. There aren't a lot of opportunities in life to pick up and move 2500 miles to pursue your dream, so I'm glad I did it. I knew publishing would be a tough industry to break into, especially since most of my fellow interns are at least five years younger than I am. Here I am at 27, doing the internships most people did in college. I don't know if my age is actually a disadvantage, or if there's some secret to transitioning to full time work that I just haven't figured out yet."

"You're talking like you've already given up on it. Let's stick a pin in that. Give me some time to formulate a plan for keeping my new friend in New York. Especially if the alternative is you moving back to Washington."

"Yeah, that's the other thing. I don't really know where I would go if I left here. My mom is in Arizona, and I lived there for about ten years when I was a kid, but I never really fit in there. Heat and sun and desert were never my thing. I haven't lived there since I was 16, so the only people I know there are my mom and her husband. And I love my mom, but we get along best in small doses."

"How did you end up in Washington?"

"My dad lived there. When I was 16, my stepdad started a new job that involved a lot of travel, so I went to live with my dad so my mom would have more freedom to travel with him. I liked living there, but what I loved most was being close to my dad, so I went to college in Seattle and moved back to Forks when I graduated. There weren't a ton of jobs for English Literature majors in Forks, so I got my teaching certificate in college and taught at the high school for a few years."

"Until you decided to follow your dreams to the Big Apple?"

"Sort of. My dad was diagnosed with liver cancer a couple years ago, and it progressed quickly. He passed away about a year ago. My dad had been a cop all his life, which doesn't pay much but does come with good insurance. He wasn't a big spender. He didn't buy new cars or go on vacations. He saved up all his life for me to go to college, but I didn't need the money, so he had a fair amount saved up. Before he died, he sat me down and told me that he wanted me to do something for myself with the money. He said that he felt bad that I had passed up opportunities to go away for college or pursue the career I wanted to be close to him, and that if I didn't at least give it a shot, he'd come back and haunt the hell out of me. Quote unquote."

"Oh, Bella. I'm so sorry."

"Yeah, thanks. Anyway, I've still got his house in Forks, so physically it would be easy for me to go back there. Emotionally, it would be much harder. A few of my high school friends are still there, and I have friends from college in Seattle, so that's a possibility. But a lot of my friends there are also friends with my ex, and since I'm the one who packed up and moved across the country, I'm guessing they're closer to him now. I don't really know what I'd be going back to."

"Wow, that's a lot to think about. Why did you let me go on and on about my wedding when your life is so much more interesting?"

"It's a lot to think about, but it isn't much fun to think about. Your wedding is much more fun to think about."

"But my wedding is just one day, and this is your whole life we're talking about. What do you want most right now? What do you want your life to be like?"

"I wish I had found a full time job in publishing so I could tell you if it's something I want to do for the rest of my life. It's still my dream, but I don't think the internships I've been doing have given me a very realistic picture. I'm basically an assistant-slash-event planner right now. If I left now, I wouldn't be choosing not to pursue my dream job - I'd just be washing out. At the same time, I feel like I'm burning cash pursuing this. I have the money to keep going for now, but I don't want to be foolish. My dad saved his entire life so I could have this money. I don't want to waste it. If I move back to Forks having accomplished nothing but spent tens of thousands of dollars, I'll hate myself."

I look up at Alice and see a determined look on her face and a glint in her eye. "Well, we can certainly do better than that. I know we just met this week, but I had a feeling about you as soon as we met. I think we're going to be great friends. And that's going to be difficult if you live on the other side of the country. So we're going to think positively and figure this out."

"Thanks, but I know you're busy with the tree lot. I don't even know how you found time to have dinner with me tonight."

"Eh, those boys are more capable than they seem. Even Edward, Mr. Personality himself. It's good to leave them alone occasionally so they remember that."

She opened the door, and I can't resist walking through it. "Speaking of…what's up with Edward?"

"What do you mean? What did he do?" Alice's voice is sharp.

"He didn't do anything, really. He just isn't very easy to talk to. Unless you're a giant dog."

"Oh, yeah. Well, Edward's always lived inside his own head. Since Emmett was a couple years ahead of him, and so outgoing, I think people expected Edward to be the same, and maybe that drove him further into his shell? I dunno. It was nice when we were kids – Edward didn't torment me the way Emmett did. But sometimes he acts like a moody teenage boy trapped in the body of a 30-year-old man. He's much nicer when it's just family, so I forget how he comes across to strangers. I hope you don't take it personally. It's not a reflection on you, I can promise you that."

"I appreciate you saying that, but it's okay if he doesn't like me. It doesn't hurt my feelings. Maybe there's only room in his heart for Samson."

"Hey, what are you doing for Christmas?"

"Nothing. Samson and I will just chill out at home with Netflix and our giant tree. We'll be happy."

"You don't go to visit your mom?"

"Nah, my mom hates decorating and cooking so she and Phil always go away on vacation for Christmas so she doesn't have to do either. I didn't feel like being the third wheel, especially if it means putting Samson in a kennel. I feel bad enough keeping him in my tiny apartment."

"Well, you should come home with us. We work through Christmas Eve, drive home on Christmas and celebrate on the 26th. Ignore Edward – the rest of us are loads of fun. And you can bring Samson! We have tons of space for him. Come for the week, stay through the New Year. We'll figure out a way to get you and that giant dog back to the city."

"Thanks for the invite. I would need to talk to my boss – my internship was supposed to run through the end of the month. My boss will be out of town that week, but I told the internship coordinator I would work regardless, so I need to ask." Also, your brother intimidates the hell out of me and he's too pretty to look at.

"Please do. I hate the idea of us leaving town and leaving you here alone."

And that's how I became Alice Cullen's new friend.


	3. December 10th

_Thank you so much for your support, lovely people._

* * *

My tree is dead.

I can't blame it, really. The temperature hasn't dipped below 55 degrees in weeks, and I can't figure out how to turn my radiator off, so I have to leave all the windows open even though it's been raining for three days. My poor tree is living in a subtropical rainforest.

Alice is coming over in a couple days, and she's certain to notice that my tree has half as many needles as it did when she sold it to me. She went up to Vermont with Emmett for a couple days to pick up the next shipment of trees, and I'm hoping Christmas trees are like goldfish – that I can swap out my dead tree for a new one without her noticing or yelling. (Correction: Alice doesn't yell, she "voices her opinion forcefully." I learned this last time she came over and forcefully voiced her opinion about my landlord's inability to fix the radiator.)

I decide to bring Samson with me on this visit to the tree lot. First, I recently discovered an online treasure trove of videos of Newfoundlands hauling Christmas trees, and I wouldn't turn down the opportunity to try it myself, even on a dirty New Jersey sidewalk. Secondly, I have a 33% chance of encountering Edward, and I may as well try to start off on the right foot.

Unfortunately, the only person in sight when we get to the tree lot is greasy James.

"Hey, Brenda, right?" He smirks as he approaches us.

"It's Bella, actually."

"Riiight, beautiful Bella." Ugh. "How could I have forgotten? So what can I do for you?"

"My tree died an early death, so I need to replace it."

"That's too bad, but it happens sometimes when you buy a tree so early. What did you have in mind?"

"I really liked the tree I had – it was a Balsam fir, about six and a half feet tall. I'm not picky though. I just want a tree that smells good and will last through Christmas. And I can't pay more than $150."

James frowns as he looks around the lot, and I can smell the hard sell coming. "Well, the selection is more limited closer to Christmas. The best I can do for $150 is probably a five footer, but I'll throw in the home delivery for free." Yuck, I do not want this douchenozzle in my living room.

"Well, can I take a look at a couple?"

James is leading me over to some trees when Edward walks around the corner with a couple coffee cups in his hands. He frowns when he sees us and heads over, and I'm honestly a little conflicted about whether I'd rather continue to talk to James or watch silently while Edward talks to my dog.

"Hey, Bella. What's going on?" Edward asks, and I'm temporarily struck dumb by the fact that he's speaking to me directly.

"Nothing much, Eddie," James answers for me. "Bella's tree didn't make it to Christmas, so I'm just showing her some possible replacements. I can handle it."

Edward stares at James for a good fifteen or twenty seconds, while James smirks at me. I want to dissolve into the pavement to get away from this weird conversation. Samson eventually takes over, jumping up on Edward and breaking his staring contest with the side of James' face.

"Alice and Emmett will be back tomorrow afternoon with fresh trees, Bella. Why don't you stop by after work? I'll set aside the best tree for you when we unload the truck."

"That would be great, thanks Edward." I don't know why Edward is suddenly so cordial, but if it gets me away from James, I'll take it. "Um, please keep in mind I can't spend more than $150."

Edward turns and glares at James again. "You don't have to pay for it. Our trees should last through Christmas. We'll replace it for free – company policy."

"Find me when you come by tomorrow, Bella," James jumps in. "I'll deliver the tree and set it up for you, no charge."

"Any one of us will do that for you." Edward's voice is hard.

"Okay, well, thanks guys. I guess we'll see you tomorrow."

The last thing I hear as Samson and I leave for the dog park is Edward: "Don't call me Eddie, James."

Thanks to a long day at work, I don't get to the tree lot until late the next night. Alice greets me with a hug and leads me to the alley in back, apologizing along the way for James and my dead tree. Then she says a bunch of other stuff I don't even register because Edward is in the alley moving and sorting trees. If Alice weren't here, I'd pull out my cell phone and film him so I can watch it on repeat later. After moving a couple trees, he notices us and he even sort of smiles a little with half his mouth. I guess with James around, I've moved out of first place on the list of people Edward hates.

Edward brings me a tree, and it's really a lovely tree, even nicer than the first one. He even stands and waits, not-rudely, while Alice finishes telling me about her trip to Vermont and we make plans to have dinner on Monday. When she leaves to help customers, Edward hefts the tree onto his shoulder and we wordlessly take off for my apartment, so I'm surprised when he starts talking a half a block later.

"So, Bella, I wanted to apologize for James. I mean, I don't know if he said anything to bother you, but if he did, I apologize."

"Don't worry about it, Edward. He seems harmless." He does not seem harmless, but I don't want to alienate Edward further by insulting his friend.

"He's an embarrassment," he growls. "We never should have hired him back this year."

"I thought he was your friend? Alice said he was your friend from high school."

Edward scoffs. "Alice suffers from a selective memory. James and I graduated in the same year, but we didn't speak to each other once in high school. He was Emmett's friend, but everyone was Emmett's friend. I've been trying to get rid of him since the day I heard we hired him."

"Well, in that case, he's a slimy dirtbag and I hope you succeed." Edward laughs beside me, and it's a surprisingly light, gleeful sound. Like a manly giggle.

At my apartment, Edward and Samson spend some time cuddling at the front door while I try my hand at dragging the tree across the threshold. I succeed only in knocking the tree over, ruining their make-out session. Edward helps me remove the dead tree from the stand and put up the new tree. Just as he's about to walk out the door with the old tree, he turns and puts the tree down.

"Uh, Bella. Alice told me you're working at Paradigm?"

"Yeah, I am. I'm just an intern though. I'll only be there for a few more weeks."

"Are you going to the holiday party next week?"

"Yeah, can't get out of it, really. My boss' boss is in charge of it. I'm pretty sure I'll be handing out champagne or something."

"Well. I wanted to let you know that I'll be there. I didn't want to surprise you. Don't want you to think I'm stalking you or anything like that."

I can't help myself, I laugh out loud at the thought of Edward Cullen stalking me. "Edward, you're the last person I'd suspect of stalking me."

"That's good, I guess."

"Why will you be at the holiday party?"

"I've, uh, written a couple books. Paradigm is my publisher."

"Really? That's great! What are your books about?"

"They're historical fiction. Sort of a series. Anyway, I didn't want you to be surprised." He shifts around nervously while I search my brain, trying to figure out if I know Edward's books. Paradigm is a reasonably large company, and historical fiction isn't my personal cup of tea. But…

"Do you publish under your own name?"

"No, ah, I publish under my middle name, Masen."

"EDWARD. YOU WROTE _COLD HARBOR_. I LOVE _COLD HARBOR_." Edward smiles/grimaces.

"Yeah. So, uh, I guess I'll see you next Thursday. Have a good weekend, Bella."

I'm so surprised that I don't stop Edward before he leaves. My jaw is still on the floor when he closes the door. Edward didn't just write a couple books – he's written two of the bestselling titles of the past three years. It started with a fantastic standalone novel, set just after the end of World War II. It explored broader societal changes while also focusing intimately on dynamics within a few families. It was shortlisted for a number of big awards and prizes. The second novel was set ten years later, and followed the same families into the early 60s. Future novels are expected to follow the families to the present day. They're wonderful books, thoroughly researched and beautifully written. I can't believe the author of _Cold Harbor_ is my personal Christmas tree delivery and removal service.


	4. December 18th

_Lots of words in this one, and no making out. Sorry about that, but Edward's gotta deal with his hangups, you know? If I ever write another story, I'm going to write an Edward who's completely accessible and expressive and in touch with his feelings._

 _I don't know anything about A Different Forest, but I'm enormously grateful to whoever recommended me there! I never imagined I'd have so many readers. I appreciate every one of you, even though it makes me nervous to know how many people are reading this._

 _P.S. Happy new year!_

A half hour after Edward leaves, I'm on my couch re-reading _Cold Harbor_. Aside from walking Samson and running to the grocery store, I pretty much lock myself into my apartment and spend the weekend reading. I enjoyed the books immensely the first time around, but it's even better when you know the author. I mean, I assume it's always like that, since Edward is the first published author I've actually known personally. I can't help but try to see Edward in his books, and then I realize that I know next to nothing about Edward, and I start parsing the novels for what I can learn about him. Then I Google him and read all the interviews and profiles I can find. Then I start to feel like a creep, and I worry about how I'm going to treat Edward like a normal, non-Pulitzer Prize finalist the next time I see him. I suspect that the only thing that would make Edward like me less than he currently does is if I pepper him with questions about his books the next time I see him.

Fortunately, Alice is the next Cullen to cross my path when she comes over for dinner on Monday, and I unleash my inner fangirl on her. I feel bad about all the questions I ask, but Alice doesn't withhold. (Or if she does, I can't imagine what.) Apparently Edward was a history major at the University of Virginia, where he learned quite a bit about the history of Richmond, Virginia, during the Civil War and Reconstruction. His thesis focused on the Battle of Cold Harbor, a lopsided and brutal victory for the Confederacy. He started law school after graduation and made it through two and half years without any sign of trouble, working at prestigious internships and dating a girl that everyone assumed he'd marry. But when he came home for Christmas break during his final year of law school, he announced he didn't want to go back. His parents convinced him to take a leave of absence instead of quitting entirely, and he spent the next nine months in his old bedroom. Carlisle and Esme were supportive parents, but they were reaching the end of their patience when Edward sat down at dinner one night and told them he had received an offer from Paradigm to publish a novel they didn't know existed. According to Alice, this story is Edward in a nutshell: you assume he's just smoking weed and jerking off for nine months, and then you find out he's been writing the Great American Novel.

The book's success surprised everyone, including the publisher. Everyone who read the book loved the characters and relationships, but assumed the general public would be turned off by the historical themes of post-war reconciliation. According to Alice, Paradigm tried to strip much of the historical detail out of the novel, which makes me sad. The most potent part of the first novel is the comparison Edward draws between the difficulty families face putting themselves back together after war, and the failure of Reconstruction to put American civil society back together after the Civil War, and that comparison is even more meaningful in the second novel, which focuses on the start of the Civil Rights Era and the Vietnam War. The novel would certainly have been more accessible and commercial had it just focused on post-WWII America, but it also would have been less significant.

Anyway, Edward apparently threatened to return the check and shred the book, and Paradigm published a novel that was closer to what he wanted but in a small run. The book took off after receiving several glowing high-profile reviews, Edward left on a five-month book tour, and after the book tour ended, he fell off the radar. He received a large advance for his second novel, which enabled him to pay off his student loans and buy the high-rise condo on the Hudson River he still lives in, but after several months out of contact with the family, Edward once again showed up at the Cullens' front door. This time, they were less nervous when he disappeared into his old room for months. Paradigm rushed the second book out with minimal edits, but Alice thinks the experience with the first book turned him into the "grumpy old man" he is today.

The rest of the week is busy at work, with my boss overseeing preparations for the holiday party. The company has several hundred employees based in New York, and at least as many authors and other guests from outside the company. I'm responsible for collecting the RSVPs and building the master list for security and making sure the venue and caterers have accurate counts. It's not the most thrilling work, but it keeps me busy and prevents me from worrying too obsessively about my next Edward encounter. On Friday, we work all day at the venue, the Tribeca Rooftop. Since the unseasonably warm weather has continued, my boss decides to set up the outdoor patio with couches and fire pits at the last minute, which keeps everyone running around until the last minute. I only have twenty minutes to change and clean up for the party, but once again, I'm happy I don't have time to think too much.

I don't recognize Edward when he gets to the party. I'm stationed at the front door welcoming guests with a few other interns, and while I notice him come in (along with every other woman in the lobby), I have no idea who he is until he's standing in front of me, murmuring, "Hi, Bella." He's wearing a charcoal grey suit with a maroon shirt and skinny tie and it all fits like someone sewed the whole ensemble onto him. He isn't wearing a beanie and his hair is artfully mussed. But the biggest change is the beard, or lack thereof. It turns out the beard was hiding a jaw that should be chiseled in marble. He's so beautiful it almost hurts to look at him.

"Hi Edward. You look…different." Beautiful. Amazing. Hotter than the sun.

He smiles, just a little, and I think he blushes, but the lights are artfully dimmed so who knows. "Are you going to be stuck out here all night?"

"No, just for the next hour or so. We'll be free after most of the guests have checked in."

"Well, I'll see you in there."

I'm fairly positive all of the other interns at the desk have been staring at him, and they pounce on me as soon as he walks away. Several folks waiting in the check-in area also approach to ask if he's Edward Masen. I don't know why their reaction surprises me – I've certainly been fascinated by Edward since I met him, even when he was a surly mute. I guess I'm surprised by how open other people are about their admiration of him.

When they release us to join the party, I make a beeline for the food. It's been a long time since lunch, so I pile up a few plates and find an empty table in the corner. It takes me a little while to find Edward in the crowd, where he's surrounded by a bunch of women (and a few men), all laughing and smiling and leaning in his direction. He looks about as friendly as he usually does, but his audience doesn't seem deterred.

Not long after I sit down, the CEO of Paradigm takes the stage. After introducing a bunch of company executives, and thanking my boss' boss for putting the holiday party together, she starts introducing some of the big-name writers in attendance. When she points out Edward, it seems like all the heads in the room swivel towards him. He grimaces a little as he waves. I have to admit, it's kind of nice to see that he's as uncomfortable with other people as he is with me.

When all the speeches are over and I've stuffed as much food into my mouth as possible, I find a group of my fellow interns sitting together and join them. The interns that didn't have jobs to do at the party are well on their way to drunk already. As they continue to drink, they start to talk loudly and indiscriminately about their bosses and some of the party guests. A couple of the girls are particularly vociferous fans of Edward's butt, which prompts Tracy, one of the girls who sat at the front door with me, to announce that we're friends. I correct them while I look around the room for Edward, but he's surrounded by another large group of fans far enough away that he couldn't possibly hear. I tell them a few times that he's just my friend's brother, leaving out his side job in Christmas tree delivery. I'm not sure Edward would want this particular group of drunk butt-admirers knowing they can get him into their apartment for just the price of a Christmas tree. Their topics of conversation make me feel a little uncomfortable, so I extricate myself and head outside to the patio after another stop at the crudité table.

On the patio, I find Hannah, another intern who I've actually bonded with this fall. She's a student at Columbia, but started a couple years later than most, so she's closer in age to me than any of the other interns, and she was the closest friend I'd made in the city until I met Alice. We talk for a little while until Edward strolls up.

"Found you," he mutters with a small smile. Maybe that's the only smile he has?

"Hi Edward. This is my friend Hannah. She's interning with the nonfiction editors. She's a fact-checking guru." They shake hands, and I can't tell if Hannah doesn't know who he is, or if she's just more unflappable than most, but she politely excuses herself and heads back inside.

Edward throws himself down on the couch next to me with a sigh, then pours himself a couple fingers of whiskey from the bottle of Macallan he's carrying. After he swallows it he leans back and closes his eyes. Is he going to take a nap? It honestly wouldn't surprise me. After a moment, he cracks an eye and looks at me.

"Don't take this the wrong way, because you guys did a great job with this party, but I hate these things."

"Holiday parties?"

"Parties generally, but publishing events are the worst."

"It does seem a little like you're their show pony." He snorts. "Do you have to come?"

"I skipped a bunch of these things after the first book came out, and they sat me down before they gave me the advance for the second and told me pretty clearly that I have obligations to the company that need to be met. So, yeah, I think so."

"Well, it's not all terrible, right? I mean, that room might as well be the headquarters of the Edward Masen fan club. It must be nice to have so many people…" He cuts me off.

"I hate people." Well, it's nice to know it's not just me.

"Yeah, I've noticed that." I can't help but smile, and I get a little smile in return. Maybe even a couple of teeth showing. "Well, you're a big hit with the interns."

"Ugh, is that girl in the tiny blue dress an intern? She grabbed my butt a little while ago. I didn't want to make a big deal about it in case she's some executive's daughter, but I think I'm going to have a bruise."

"Shiny teal sleeveless dress? That's probably Tracy. She's been talking about your butt all night."

"Hmm." He takes a drink and closes his eyes again. "So this is the industry you want to work in?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, I don't want to plan holiday parties for a living, but every job's going to involve some stuff you don't want to do. But I can't think of anything better than helping people find great books."

"What's your favorite book?"

" _Heart of Darkness_." Edward opens his eyes and turns towards me again.

"Really?"

"Yeah. You don't like it?"

"I do. It's just a little dark. Most people say _Pride and Prejudice_ or _The Corrections_ or something."

" _Jane Eyre_ was the book that I really fell in love with, but reading _Heart of Darkness_ made me feel like I was seeing a world I didn't know existed. There's literature that we connect with because it makes us feel less alone, and there's literature that broadens our imaginations. Both are important, but _Heart of Darkness_ sparked my imagination like no other book. Every time I read it, I wish it were 1,000 pages longer."

Edward gazes at me for a moment after I finish.

"Well, I'm not sure Joseph Conrad could find a publisher today. There's a lot more commerce than art in publishing these days."

"I think there's a lot more commerce than art everywhere these days. Art doesn't become less meaningful because it's commercial. If I'm an editor with _Heart of Darkness_ in my hands, and I can't get it published, I'm not doing my job very well."

"I don't think _Heart of Darkness_ would even cross your desk these days."

"Forget about _Heart of Darkness_ , okay? Is this a game you play with interns at the holiday party? Tell me your favorite book, and I'll tell you what's wrong with your professional goals? I don't need to publish _Heart of Darkness_ _2_ to feel like I've contributed something to the world. I would've been just as proud if I had published _Cold Harbor_."

Edward sits forward, resting his elbows on his thighs, and sighs. He runs a hand through his hair a few times, and starts to speak when we're interrupted.

"Edward! There you are. I've been looking everywhere." I look up to see a portly bald guy with a ruddy face approaching, and Edward stands up with a sigh.

"Sorry, I thought I had finished making the rounds. Do you need me for something?"

"I just want to introduce you to the new girl in Marketing. I think you might really hit it off. Unless you're already occupied," the man says while looking me over.

"Bella, this is my editor, Jason Jenks. Bella's an intern, Jason. And my sister's best friend, so stop leering at her."

"Hey, I love mentoring interns. Pleased to meet you, Bella," he winks at me. "Give me a call and we can get lunch sometime. I've got lots of career advice stored up." Blech.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Edward rolling his eyes. "Come on, Jason. My carriage turns back into a pumpkin in twenty minutes, so let's get this over with."

After they leave, I grab Edward's glass and bottle and take a drink before heading inside. I just can't win with him. It was clear from the moment we met that he doesn't like me. When I don't like someone, I do everything I can to avoid them. Is he under the impression that we have to get along just because I'm friends with Alice?

Most of the other interns are done working after tonight, so I make the rounds to say goodbye before I leave. A couple of them are so drunk I don't think they'll remember. On my way to the elevator, I find Edward leaning against a wall, staring at his phone. He stands up straight when he sees me.

"Can I give you a ride home, Bella? I've got a car service."

"I can just take a train, Edward. It's no big deal." Seriously, what more could he have to say?

Edward holds his phone up. "Trains aren't running to Hoboken. You'd have to go to Jersey City and take a cab. Come on, the train will take at least twice as long." Yes, but no one on the train will question my chosen profession.

"Please?" He says when I hesitate. "I want to apologize for what I said earlier."

Ugh. "Okay."

In the car, Edward fidgets for a minute while the driver maneuvers into the Holland Tunnel traffic. When we exit the tunnel in New Jersey, I decide I might as well talk if he won't.

"Look, Edward, we don't need to be friends. I'm very glad to have met your sister, and I'm grateful for all your help with my Christmas tree. You're a wonderful writer, one of the best working today. I won't think less of you if you don't like me. I don't like everyone, and I certainly don't need everyone to like me. I won't come to Vermont for Christmas, okay? And if you don't think I should work in publishing, well, it looks like the universe agrees with you, so you can rest easy about that."

Edward sighs, rolls his eyes and runs his fingers through his hair at the same time. It's an Edward paroxysm. "You know my editor, Jason? Have you ever met his assistant, Tanya?"

What? "Uh, maybe? Tall and blonde with curly hair?"

"Yeah. The first time I met her, he told me she got her job because she was the intern who gave the best blow jobs." Ewwwwww. "He tells everyone that – well, everyone male. No matter what else she does in her career, what she achieves on her own, there will always be people in the world who believe she trades sexual favors for professional favors."

"That's disgusting, Edward, but what's the point? That you should probably fire your editor?"

"I've fired editors before, Bella. Jason's the least objectionable editor I've had. There are very few truly good people in publishing."

"There are a lot of assholes everywhere, Edward. I worked with assholes when I was teaching on the other side of the country. I'm not under the impression that publishing is a utopia. But I'd rather put up with assholes in pursuit of a career I love than one I don't. Besides, what does it matter to you? It's pretty clear that you don't think much of me. Why do you care if I become another asshole in publishing?"

We pull up in front of my building, and I want to just get out of the car and disappear, but Edward turns in his seat and glares at me with those pretty eyes.

"I do care, Bella, and I don't think you're an asshole. I think you're smart and kind and hardworking, and you're far too good to be working with people like Jason Jenks. I know there are assholes everywhere, but these are the assholes I know, and I have to believe there's someplace better for you. You deserve something better. But," he sighs, "if that's where you want to work, I can probably get you a job."

"You – what?"

"If you want to work there, I can probably make it happen."

"I don't – I mean, I appreciate that, but that's not how I want to get a job."

Edward chuckles. "Man, I could have won a lot of money betting that would've been your response. Look, Bella, that's how people get jobs, especially in a competitive industry. That's why you're supposed to network. Hell, you probably got that teaching job you had because you knew someone. It doesn't reduce or diminish your qualifications if someone helps you out because they like you."

"I just don't want people to talk about me the way they talk about your editor's assistant, you know?"

"Apples and oranges, Bella. I'm not offering to help you in exchange for anything, or because you look great in that dress. I'm offering to help because I think there should be more people like you at Paradigm. You're a talented person who just hasn't come to the attention of the right people. I can make that happen."

"I don't know. I appreciate it, though. I really do. Can I think about it?"

"Of course. Think about it. And please come to Vermont for Christmas. I mean, please come if you want to, but don't stay here because of me. Alice will beat me up if you don't come because of me. She's a monster, Bella. A tiny little dictator. Help me, please."

"I'll think about it. I need to go, Edward. Samson's been home alone since 8 am. If he could dial a phone, he'd have called the cops to rescue him."

"Sorry. Bring him to the lot tomorrow, okay? I bought some treats for him." Of course you did.

"Okay. See you later."

That boy makes my head spin.


	5. December 24th

_It sure is hard to write when you aren't unoccupied all day every day._

 _This is sort of a transitional chapter. I thought about skipping right to Vermont but I do think this chapter gives you a little more insight into Edward. I'm hoping it won't take an entire week to get out the next chapter, but I hate making promises I can't keep._

 _Thanks for reading! And extra special thanks to everyone who's reviewing. I'd tell you that personally, but I'm an idiot when it comes to this website._

* * *

I spend Christmas Eve getting ready to go to Vermont. Around 8 pm, I've got the yule log channel on the TV and I'm midway through a giant pile of laundry when I hear a knock on the door. Through the peephole I see Jasper, the top of Alice's head and a flannel-covered chest.

"What are you guys doing here?" I ask as I open the door. Samson squeezes by me like he isn't a hundred pounds and greets Edward with a big hug and kiss.

"We close the tree lot at 5 pm on Christmas Eve. Then we drop off the donation trees, eat Chinese food and drink cheap wine," Alice explains. "It's Chinese food time, and we thought you might like to join us."

"Well, I'd invite you to eat here, but I think you can see the problem." We've made our way into the living room, and between the giant dog, two giant men, and my giant tree, there isn't a whole lot of room for moving. Or standing or breathing. "Aren't you missing someone? Where's Emmett?"

"He was whining more than Edward does when he has a hangnail, so we sent him back to Vermont early. His wife used to come down with us, but she stayed home since she's pregnant this year. He's been moodier than E-"

"Yes, moodier than Edward. We get it, Alice. Thanks very much," Edward cuts her off. "Why don't we get to the point?"

Alice rolls her eyes. "Bella, do you want to come to Edward's place for dinner? You can stay overnight, if you don't mind sleeping on a couch."

"Oh, I appreciate it, but I haven't finished cleaning and packing yet. I don't want to hold you guys up tomorrow when you're ready to go."

"How much more do you have to do? We have to clean up the tree lot and meet with the landlord in the morning, anyway. It usually takes a couple hours."

"Well, I guess I could come over after I finish this load of laundry. Can I meet you there?"

Edward writes down his address and gives me basic directions. It's not very far away, but if you don't know where the lobby is in those huge complexes, you can walk a mile just trying to find it.

I get to Edward's apartment about an hour later. I didn't change before I came over, so I feel a little out of place in my yoga pants and UW sweatshirt. Judging from the marble-clad lobby, there isn't an apartment in this building worth less than $1 million.

Edward answers his door in sweat pants and bare feet, wearing dark rimmed glasses. It's a close call, but sweatpants Edward might slightly outrank bespoke suit Edward. Topping it all off, he's holding a tiny dog.

"Hey, Edward, I didn't know you had a squirrel for a pet."

Edward looks down at the dachshund he's holding and snorts. "That's original, at least."

Samson and the tiny dog have had their eyes locked on each other since Edward opened the door. "Is he friendly? Will he get along with Samson okay?"

"She. Her name's Alice." He grins at me. "I'm sure they'll get along fine. Come on in."

I hold on to Samson's leash as Edward closes the front door and sets the dog on the ground. Samson's always friendly but you never know how other dogs will respond to his size. Alice (the dog) trots up to Samson and barks and he lifts up a giant paw and taps her on her head. She takes off running and Samson tries to follow, almost pulling me over in the process.

"It's okay, you can let him off the leash. He's more likely to dislocate your shoulder than damage anything else."

After I let him go, we follow the dogs around the corner to a great room with floor-to-ceiling windows and a fantastic view across the Hudson. Alice and Jasper are unpacking Chinese food cartons in the part of the room set up as a dining room.

"Hey, Alice, I just met your doppelganger."

"Ha, ha, ha. I fucking hate you, Edward," Alice calls out.

"It's not my fault," Edward protests, but he has a big grin on his face. "Her name was Alice before I got her. What was I supposed to do, confuse the poor dog?"

"Samson's name was Hercules when we adopted him."

"Fuck you, Edward." Alice throws a packet of chop sticks in his direction, but he just laughs and picks them up.

"Are they like this all the time?" I ask Jasper.

"We've all been together 24/7 for almost four weeks now," Jasper answers. "It brings out the very best in them."

The dogs barrel around the dining room and kitchen as they chase each other around. "Edward, do you want me to calm Samson down? We could separate them for a little while."

"Nah, they'll wear themselves out soon. Alice can take care of herself. She's a controlling little brat." He grins.

"Fuck you, Edward," human Alice calls out.

I join Alice and Jasper at the table while Edward gets me a soda from the fridge. They're all drinking wine, but wine just gives me a terrible headache the next day, and I don't even like drinking it.

"So, Edward, how did you end up with a dachshund?"

"When I do book tours I'm gone for four or five months straight. I can't have a dog unless it travels with me. Most airlines let me bring Alice in the cabin, and most big hotel chains are fine with dogs these days."

"Does she do okay on book tours?"

"Well, we've only done one together, but she dealt with it pretty well. The first plane ride was a little dicey, but by the time we came home she was better at travelling than I am."

"Yes, yes, Edward has a tiny dog and it's all very cute," Alice interrupts. "So, Bella, are you going to let Edward give you a job at Paradigm, or what?"

"Alice, I can't _give_ anyone a job at Paradigm. The best I can promise to do is help."

Alice waves her hand in Edward's direction. "You're one of their top five bestselling authors, Edward, and you've only published the first two books. By the time you're done, and the movies or television series or whatever are done, you'll have made them a ridiculous amount of money. The least they can do is give one of your friends an entry-level job."

"Is there really going to be a movie or TV show?" Apparently I wasn't very thorough when I Googled Edward a few weeks ago.

Edward rolls his eyes and stabs at the food on his plate. "I don't know. Maybe someday. I haven't met anyone in Hollywood I can stand to be around for more than ten minutes yet."

"God, Edward, you don't have to spend time with them. You just have to cash their checks and keep writing."

"That's an inspiring motto, Alice. A recipe for great art."

Now Alice is rolling her eyes. "Oh, great, are we going to talk about art now? Am I dressed pretentiously enough for this conversation?" Alice mimes jerking off with her left hand while scooping up lo mein with her right. It's impressively ambidextrous.

"If you guys keep this up, Bella's going to change her mind about coming home with us tomorrow," Jasper interrupts, and I smile at him.

"They don't bother me. At least not now. I reserve the right to change my mind a week from now." And I'm glad if I can avoid talking about taking favors from Edward for the time being. Samson and I have stopped at the tree lot to say hi a handful of times in the week since the holiday party, and I think we're amiable enough that it's only a small exaggeration to call Edward and I friends, but I'm still uncomfortable with his offer. Maybe if Edward was familiar with my work it would be a different story, but as it is, it just feels like he's doing a favor for his sister.

"So, Bella, are you going let Edward help you?" Dammit.

"Just butt out, Alice. Bella and I can talk about it on our own." Um, okay. If you say so. "We'll have plenty of time to talk about it tomorrow in the car." We will?

"Oh, I forgot to tell Bella she'll be riding up with you tomorrow." Well. Can't really react to that with him sitting right here, can I? "We don't think Samson will fit with the three of us in the cab of the truck, but he should be fine in Edward's back seat."

"I told them I don't mind driving Samson alone, Bella," Edward chimes in. "I mean, you're welcome to ride with me, but if you and Alice want to catch up during the ride, I can handle Samson alone."

"But you and Bella have important job-related matters to discuss, Edward," Alice says sweetly. "Important matters you must discuss on your own. God forbid I get in the way of that." Man, at this point I'm not sure which passive aggressive sibling I'd rather be trapped in a vehicle with for five hours. It doesn't seem right to make Edward my dog's chauffeur, though.

"I don't mind riding with Edward. And I'd hate to leave you alone to handle the dogs if they're acting up. Hey, where did the dogs go?"

We find them curled up on the big sectional couch, Samson playing giant spoon and Alice playing tiny spoon. Alice (the human) and Edward want to watch _Elf_ , which is apparently their family Christmas movie, so we move to the couch with the remaining food. Edward's got an incredible view of the Hudson River and midtown Manhattan, which I enjoy as much as the movie, but the best part of the movie is the peace and quiet between Edward and Alice.

After the movie ends, Edward reiterates the offer to sleep on his couch. I'm tempted since it has started raining pretty heavily, but I have to take Samson out before bed anyway. But then Edward offers to take Samson and Alice out together, and my resistance is overcome. Edward brings me a sheet, blanket and pillow so I can make my bed while he's out.

When Edward returns with two wet dogs, I help him dry them off. (Generous of me, since Samson is probably ten times larger and wetter than Alice.) Sweatpants Edward is even prettier with wet hair and his clothes sticking to his body. And while the dogs smell terrible (also 95% Samson), Edward smells delicious. Thankfully I make it to bed without doing anything embarrassing like drooling or sniffing him.


	6. December 25th

_What's this? Two chapters in 48 hours? I'm surprised too. Very curious to hear what you think of this one. Have a good week, internet friends._

* * *

When I wake up on Christmas morning, the sun is just coming up over the skyscrapers of midtown Manhattan and Edward is looming over me. It would be disconcerting if he weren't so attractive. He's back in his glasses and sweats and his hair is a beautiful mess.

"Sorry to wake you, but I'm taking Alice out for a walk. Do you want me to take Samson?"

"Mmmmm, that would be great." I could really get used to having a live-in dog walker. I love my dog, but sometimes a girl just wants to sleep in.

I roll over and doze lightly until I hear the front door open and close and the click-clack of dog toenails. I could happily lay on this couch for a while longer, but I've got quite a bit to do at home before we leave town.

"Edward, can I – oh…" Edward closes the refrigerator door when he hears me start talking, and I realize he's taken off his shirt. All he has on are his glasses and sweatpants, slung low on his hips. He doesn't have those ridiculous six-pack muscles or bulging biceps, but he's clearly strong and fit.

"Should I put my shirt back on?"

"Huh? No. Never. Or, you know, whenever you want. Um, I was going to ask you about my tree?"

"Uh oh. Did you kill another one?"

"No, no, not at all. But, uh, since we won't be back until after the new year, and trees are a fire hazard, I was thinking about…maybe taking it down before we leave. I mean, if it wouldn't offend you guys. I love my tree, and I'm so grateful you replaced the first one, but it seems unsafe—"

"Bella, relax. The only one of us who might say a word about it is Alice, and there's no reason for her to know. If you take everything off it before I get there, I'll take it to the trash for you."

"Thanks, Edward, that would be so great. What time do you think you guys will be done?"

"No later than noon, for sure."

When Edward shows up at 11:30, I've got a suitcase full of clean clothes, the tree undecorated, and sandwiches and snacks ready for the car. Edward takes the tree down to the basement trash room and then swallows an entire sandwich in the time it takes us to go down two flights of stairs to the street. His car is one of those sporty little Volvo hatchbacks, and he's got the back seats down and a blanket down for the dogs. We take them for a walk around the block so they can work out all their excitement at seeing each other after four hours apart, and then load them up for the trip.

Edward's preoccupied with the GPS and the tangled New Jersey highways for the first thirty minutes, but once we cross into New York, it's a straight shot up to Albany. We should talk, right? Edward can't get mad at me for making conversation, can he?

"So Edward, tell me about your family." Edward grimaces and turns on the radio. Maybe he can. "I've heard about them from Alice, but that was weeks ago and it would be helpful to have a refresher before I meet them."

"Okay, but I'm not going to say anything about my dear sister since it'll probably get back to her." He looks at me out of the corner of his eye.

"Edward, I have absolutely zero interest in getting in the middle of your weird sibling rivalry. Besides, I can't imagine either of you saying anything to me that you haven't said to each other."

"Hmph. Well. You know Emmett and Jasper—"

"Not very well." Edward sighs.

"Fine. Emmett's the oldest, and a giant child. And in a couple months, he'll have a tiny child of his own, which ought to be illegal. He's married to Rose, a giant blond Swede or Norwegian or something from Minnesota. She's absurdly smart for someone married to an idiot. They've been together since college. Emmett has a construction company and coaches football and baseball at the high school. Rose is a CPA and the business manager at Emmett's company and she fantasizes about taking over the New England Christmas tree market in her spare time. They just finished building their own place at the farm so they're around more than Alice and Jasper."

"I thought Alice and Jasper live there too?"

Edward gives me the side-eye again. "Not unless you know something I don't. They've got a condo in Rutland, about 45 minutes away. Jasper's the chef at a restaurant there, and Alice has been working at the restaurant ever since the owner decided to retire and offered to sell it to them."

"Alice told me they were living at home to save up to buy their own restaurant."

"God I hope not. That house isn't big enough for the six of us. Besides, Alice's idea of 'saving up' is buying the $100 shoes instead of the $300 shoes." Edward sighs. "That's not really fair. None of us are suffering. Our parents have always been very supportive, financially and otherwise. But Alice is the baby, and the only girl, and they've always treated her like a little princess."

"Spoken like a true middle child."

"You have no idea, Bella. It was a nightmare. I shared a bathroom with Emmett, who didn't flush a toilet once between the ages of 8 and 15, and he only started then because he started sneaking girls into his room. After Alice had sex ed in fourth grade, she became obsessed with interrupting us when we were…doing things she shouldn't have interrupted. She'd knock on our doors every time she walked by them. I think sometimes she'd set her alarm for the middle of the night just to knock on our doors. And you'd want to scream at her, but sometimes it would be mom or dad knocking. I used to dream about being an only child and then wake up to Alice pounding on my door and a disgusting mess in the bathroom. It was like living with two sociopaths."

I feel bad for laughing, since Edward clearly feels very aggrieved, but I can't help it. "Your parents didn't help?"

"They intervened whenever it got to the point of physical violence, and it would get better for a little while, but there were three of us and only two of them. They both worked, too."

"Your mom runs the Christmas tree farm, right?"

"She does, but that's not a full time job. I mean, I'm sure it is if you have a large enough farm, but Christmas trees are surprisingly low maintenance. Aside from planting and harvesting, you just need to trim them occasionally so they grow into the right shape. And some strains don't even need trimming. They take 8-10 years to grow, so at any point in time seven-eighths of your trees are just hanging out, growing. She did a bunch of other jobs when we were growing up. She has a nursing degree – she and Dad met when he was doing his residency in Chicago – so she worked as the school nurse at the high school when we were in elementary, and then switched when we did. She worked at dad's office when he was short staffed. Her favorite thing to do is interior design, which didn't keep her very busy when we were kids but she's made quite a name for herself over the past ten years or so. And Emmett and Rose have been taking over more of the tree business, so she's been doing more interior design work."

"Did she decorate your place?" Edward makes a face, but I can't tell if he's smiling or wincing.

"No. Mom hates my place. She thinks it's cold and impersonal and has too much empty space."

"I was surprised you didn't have a Christmas tree up."

"Never have. I don't have lights or ornaments or a tree stand or anything. I always spend Christmas in Vermont, where there are more than enough trees. I've never even thought about putting up my own. You should talk to Alice, though. She's bugged me to put one up every year for the past three years, but she doesn't spend the month of December lifting trees."

"Are your parents close to retiring?"

"They're getting to be that age, but I don't hear them talk about it very much. Dad loves being a country doctor, but he's been complaining about running a practice since I was a kid. I think Mom is so happy to finally be doing the job she loves full time. I know at some point they're going to swap houses with Emmett and Rose, and I'd bet retirement will appeal more when there are small children running around the farm."

"Swap houses?"

"Yeah, you'll see when we get there. Their house is great if you have kids or lots of visitors from out of town, but it's a lot of house for just the two of them. The house Emmett and Rose built is just a two-bedroom place, so they'll outgrow it if they have more kids, which they will. So Mom and Dad were really involved in the construction of Emmett and Rose's new house. When the time is right, they'll switch houses."

"That's…generous. Does that bother you? You're going to lose your writing sanctuary."

Edward shifts in his seat. "Alice told you about that, hunh? Well, I'm trying to develop new habits. Be less of the tortured author who can only finish a book in one place on earth."

"How's that going?"

"Work in progress."

He doesn't elaborate, and I want to know more, but I also know how much pressure writers feel when you ask about their progress. "How's it going?" always sounds like "why aren't you writing faster?"

"Bella?" Edward asks, when I've been quiet for a little while. "Is it my turn to ask questions?"

"Sure. You have questions?"

"Well, like you, most of what I know about you I've heard from Alice. It was heavily interspersed with 'she is my new best friend' and 'you have to help her get a job, Edward.' I might have missed some stuff."

"You really don't have to help me get a job, Edward. I certainly appreciate it, but it just doesn't feel right. It would be different if you knew me professionally, but I don't deserve to win the job lottery just because I happened to befriend the sister of a famous author."

"I respect you for feeling that way, but you're really overvaluing this job I'm going to help you get. At best, I'll be able to help you get an entry level position slightly more interesting than sorting mail that will barely cover your rent. I'm just getting your foot in the door. You'll have to do well if you want to advance. You won't be getting any advantage that you wouldn't get if you had gone to the same grad school as the Editor in Chief, or if you had a family member working for the company. I'm fairly certain Jason would find a job for you if you slept with him once."

"That doesn't make it right, Edward."

"None of it is right, that's the point. You think this opportunity you're turning down will go to someone equally deserving and honorable. Instead it will go to someone with no qualms about taking any advantage, who in all likelihood is less intelligent and hard-working than you are."

"I get it, Edward, I really do. But there's so much injustice in the world that I will never be able to do anything about. I want to do the right thing when I have the opportunity, even if it disadvantages me."

"Okay, first of all, it's one job. It isn't even one job – it's one interview, that you have to do well in. But more importantly, your entire argument is predicated on the fact that you would get an opportunity you don't deserve. That you're getting a leg up that you shouldn't. The only people who believe the world is a meritocracy are successful narcissists. The rest of us know that we've missed out on things we would've been great at, and we've gotten things we don't deserve. I'm telling you, this is something you would be great at. This low-paying, mail-opening entry-level job I'm going to help you get. And if you aren't, you'll wash out after a couple years and open up room for that kind, brilliant, gifted person whose place you're taking now."

"Edward—"

"And here's another thing. And this is the last thing I'll say on the subject, for now. You keep saying I'm doing this because my sister asked me to. _In my entire life, I've never done anything because my sister asked me to_. Feel free to keep throwing objections at me, but please stop saying I'm doing this as a favor to my sister. If you ever want me to do something, getting Alice to ask me is _the worst possible way to do it_."

"Got it."

"Good. Now I think it's only fair that you tell me all your deepest darkest childhood secrets."

"I don't really have any deep dark secrets. I didn't have any siblings to pound on my door when I was masturbating."

"That's probably why you're a reasonably well-adjusted human being."

"Well, I wouldn't go that far."

"So what did your parents do to ruin your life?"

"They didn't want me."

"What? What do you mean?"

"My dad told me the story of how I came to be a couple months before he died. He had this brutal honesty thing going on when he was sick. He would just say stuff without thinking about how it would affect anyone around him. It wasn't all bad – he's the reason I left a relationship I didn't want to be in and moved across the country. But some of it was really hurtful."

"What did he tell you?"

"Apparently my parents' relationship was really rocky before my mom got pregnant. He was staying at a friend's house and having a relationship with another woman, but still sleeping with my mom, I guess. He thought they agreed about not wanting children, but she stopped taking birth control without telling him, and all of a sudden she was pregnant. He wanted her to have an abortion, but she wouldn't do it, so he decided to give their marriage another try. Then he found out the woman he was seeing on the side was pregnant, so he told her to get an abortion."

"What happened to the woman on the side?"

"He had no idea. She moved away and he never heard from her again."

"That's a terrible fucking story to tell your child."

"Yeah."

"Do you think it's possible that he was trying to tell you how much he did want you, that he stayed in a bad marriage because he wanted to be your dad?"

"I don't know. I know my dad loved me. He worked hard to maintain a relationship with me after they divorced and we moved away. He was happy when I moved back in high school, and he was happy I came home after college. He had his flaws and shortcomings as a dad, but I never doubted that he loved me. But hearing that story was like being punched in the stomach. I still feel it when I tell the story. The worst thing about it is that I can't think about my dad now without thinking of that story. My dad was my best friend for the last ten years of my life, but that can't be right, can it? My best friend wouldn't tell me that story. Every time someone says they're sorry my dad died, I think, yeah, me too, but I'm also sorry he was an asshole."

"Bella, you're crying."

"I know. I'm sorry. I can't talk about this without crying. I shouldn't have brought it up. I'm sorry."

"Well, I did ask for all your deepest, darkest secrets. It's my own fault."

"If you say so."

"I'm going to pull over for a minute."

We're silent for a couple miles until we reach an exit, and I sniffle and dry my eyes and generally try to act less like a basketcase. After Edward stops at a gas station, I head for the hatchback to let the dogs out, but before I can open it, Edward surprises me by hugging me.

"I'm sorry, Bella." His chest smells lovely. I want to stay here for a while.

"Thanks, Edward. I'm sorry I unloaded my emotional baggage on you."

"Don't worry about it. I mean it."

We walk the dogs and get drinks from the mini mart before we get back on the road. I manage to avoid crying or snot sobbing for the rest of the drive, which now feels like an accomplishment. Edward tells me funny stories about Alice and Emmett and asks me questions about college and my life back in Forks while delicately avoiding the topic of my father. The sun is going down by the time we cross the border from New York to Vermont, but the part of Vermont I see looks beautiful and bucolic. After a long drive through the mountains, we drive through the picturesque town of Woodstock, decorated for Christmas like a Norman Rockwell painting.

It's completely dark when we pull off the road onto a long driveway. The driveway ends in a circle that surrounds a huge fir tree, as tall as the buildings that surround it, decorated with lights. Around the circle are three buildings: a large red farmhouse, a smaller yellow house, and a big red barn fashioned with four garage doors. In daylight, Edward explains, I'd have seen the pond alongside the driveway and rows and rows of perfectly spaced trees behind the house. Edward points out some lights on a mountain in the distance, which he says are part of the ski resort at Killington.

We unload our dogs and luggage and walk through the unlocked front door. There's a stairway facing the front door and two glass-door enclosed offices on either side of the foyer.

"Anyone home?" Edward calls out as we unload and remove our coats and shoes at the front door. A tall, older man with salt and pepper hair appears from behind the stairwell. Even standing next to Edward, the most attractive man I've ever seen in real life, the older man is strikingly handsome.

"Hey, Edward, welcome home!" He gives Edward a big hug. "So good to see you."

"You too, Dad." Edward turns towards me. "This is Alice's new adopted sister, Bella Swan."

"It's so nice to meet you, Dr. Cullen." I extend a hand, but he gives me a hug instead. His chest smells just as nice as Edward's.

"Call me Carlisle. Or Dad, I guess, if you're part of the family now. And who's this modestly sized animal?"

"That's Samson." Hearing his name as an invitation, Samson stands up on his back legs to meet Carlisle face to face. While Carlisle is greeting Samson, Alice starts barking and stands on her back legs, scratching at Carlisle's shins. When Samson settles back on four legs, Carlisle picks up Alice.

"Come back to the kitchen. I'm starting on spaghetti and meatballs."

"Where's Mom?"

"Alice and Jasper wanted to drop the truck off on the way home, so Mom went to pick them up."

The back of the house is one giant great room, with a modern kitchen at one end, a large dining room table in the middle and the living room at the other end, clustered around a large stone fireplace. There's a porch off the back of the house, and it looks like another one beyond the living room.

"Hey, Dad, Bella said Alice said she's living at home? She didn't say anything to me about it."

"Yeah, they've been at home since Emmett and Rose moved to the new house. They can make a fair amount of money renting their condo during the ski season, you know. They're saving up for the restaurant."

"Do you think they'd move back to the condo tonight if I wrote them a check for $100,000?"

"Come on, Edward. She hasn't even done anything to you yet."

"She's been living with me for a month, Dad. She's done lots of things to me."

Edward sits at the kitchen island so I take the seat next to him. Carlisle offers us drinks and then checks his spaghetti sauce.

"We've got the turkey defrosting for tomorrow, but I thought I'd stick with a crowd favorite tonight. Hey, can you text Emmett and let him know you're here?"

"We should probably take the dogs out for a short walk before dinner. They're wound up from being in the car. We'll stop at Emmett's to get them. I haven't seen the house since they finished."

"You might want to text them to let them know you're on your way. Mom went over earlier to invite them to have lunch with us and she got an eyeful."

"What, like, through the windows?"

"Mm hmm."

"Emmett's such a child."

"I hope Emmett wasn't doing that when he was a child."

"Ugh. Bella, if you want to stay here to minimize the risk of seeing my brother's bare ass, I can take the dogs."

"That's okay, I need to stretch my legs too."

Fortunately, there are no bare asses on display when we get to Emmett's house. There is a hugely pregnant, very blonde woman with a big smile and hug for both of us. She shows us around the house while Emmett's finishing up in the shower. It's a much more modest house, but modern in design and furnishing. The main floor is one big open space, with a porch off the back like the big house. Upstairs are a bathroom and two bedrooms, a spacious master bedroom with a fireplace and patio and a charming nursery for the baby girl they're expecting. Edward and Rose catch up while we wait for Emmett to get ready, and then we round up the dogs and head back to the big house. We're stopped in the driveway when a large SUV pulls up. Out of the driver's side comes a beautiful older woman, with dark brown hair interspersed with grey.

"Edward! You're here! Merry Christmas, honey." Edward has to bend down in order for her to kiss his cheek and get her arms around his shoulders. They're very cute.

"And you must be Bella! I've heard so much about you!" And I'm enveloped in another hug from a lovely-smelling person.

"And this must be Samson! I've heard so much about you too!" I'm glad Mrs. Cullen bends down to greet him. She doesn't seem frail in the tiniest bit, but there's no reason to test her with a hundred pound dog.

"Thanks so much for inviting us to stay with you, Mrs. Cullen. Or letting Alice invite us."

"Please, call me Esme. And don't give it another thought. I love having lots of people around at Christmas. That's easy for me to say, since Carlisle does all the cooking."

As she says it, Carlisle appears at the front door.

"Come on inside, everyone, dinner's ready."

Alice and Jasper hug Carlisle on their way in, and Alice hugs Rose, and Esme picks up Alice the dog, and Emmett punches Edward in the arm, and it's all quite an experience for someone who has never lived with more than two other people. If you got all my living relatives together in one place, there would be fewer of them than there are Cullens in this house.

Dinner is a raucous, noisy affair, though it doesn't seem to impress anyone else the way it does me. I offer to help clean up after dinner, but I'm refused, and I find myself on the couch next to Edward while everyone else cleans up. As I look around, I can't help but laugh.

"What's funny?"

"I feel like I stumbled into a Dior perfume commercial. It's ridiculous how attractive you all are. When the clock strikes midnight my clothes will turn back into rags and I'll have to go back to living with the ordinary people."

Edward screws up his face.

"Not a fan of Dior? Would you prefer Acqua di Gio? Cool Water? Axe Body Spray?"

"I don't think you see yourself very clearly."

"I'm not saying I'm a troll, Edward. But no one would mistake a Swan family reunion for a photo shoot."

"Well, anytime you feel overwhelmed, just remember, flushing toilets is a relatively recently acquired skill for some of us."

"Will do."


	7. December 26th

_Even I want Bella and Edward to speed things up, but they're just not there yet. Hey, I'm not the only one whose boobs hurt when it's cold, am I? Love you guys._

* * *

I wake up to the sound of tiny dog toenails tap dancing on the hardwood floor in Emmett's room. Fun facts about Emmett's room:  
1\. I'm sharing a jack and jill bathroom with Edward.  
2\. After I learned where I'd be sleeping last night, three different Cullens told me that they replaced the mattress and sheets in Emmett's room after he and Rose moved to the new house. I think I was suitably trepidatious about what I would find in his room, but so far it just seems like a normal room. Then again, I'm not walking around with a blacklight.

Edward warned me last night that Alice (the dog) has a pea-sized bladder and wakes up with the sun, but by the time he mentioned it, Samson and Alice were both curled up on Samson's bed in my room, so I told him not to worry about it. In the cold, dim light of early morning, I'm regretting it. I think Samson might regret it too, because he groans when he gets up to follow Alice out the door and down the stairs.

The temperature dropped overnight, and it's downright freezing as the dogs make their rounds in the front yard. I don't usually let Samson out without a leash - he doesn't look like it, but he's a runner when he gets the opportunity - but I'm hoping he's too tired to go far because I don't want to leave the warm foyer. The sky is overcast and it looks like there are a few snowflakes falling. After I bring the dogs in and feed them breakfast, I consider going back to bed but I notice a dwindling fire in the fireplace. After stoking the fire, I settle on to the couch under a throw blanket to watch the snow swirl in the backyard, which is filled with rows and rows of Christmas trees of varying sizes. Alice settles on my lap and Samson lies on my feet as we wait for the house to wake up.

Edward is the first person to appear, all disheveled and hot and looking for Alice (the dog). When I tell him I already took her out and fed her, he settles down on the other end of the couch and Alice moves over to him. He is unbelievably adorable with a tiny dachshund on his chest. He tells me more about the parts of the house and the farm I haven't seen yet, and about their Christmas routine. Jasper and Carlisle prepare a huge carb-filled breakfast, then start working on Christmas dinner, which is usually ready around 4, except for the year Emmett convinced them to try a deep fryer and almost set the house on fire. After breakfast they attack the pile of presents under the Christmas tree. Esme, Alice and Rose typically spend the day shopping the after-Christmas sales, and Edward and Emmett usually head to Killington or Okemo to ski. I tell Edward it sounds like Carlisle and Jasper really get the short end of the stick, but he assures me that they both enjoy cooking more than shopping or skiing, as long as they don't have to clean up afterwards, and helpers often do more harm than good, as the deep fryer story illustrates.

Alice and Jasper are the next ones down the stairs, and they start making breakfast after turning down my offer to help. Really, Jasper starts to cook while Alice and Edward insult each other across the room. Fortunately, Esme and Carlisle head down pretty soon thereafter, and they have a magical calming effect on Alice and Edward. Esme texts Emmett, and he and Rose walk through the front door a few minutes later.

Over a delicious pancake/waffle/French toast breakfast, Rose announces she doesn't feel like waddling around in the snow at nearly seven months pregnant, and Emmett decides to stay home with her. Edward announces he would rather remove his own eyeballs with a spoon than hit the after-Christmas sales, and though I feel the same, I don't feel nearly as comfortable sharing my opinion, so I'm roped into shopping with Alice and Esme. Since Samson loves snow more than treats and naps combined, I ask them if I can take some time to take him on a long walk before we leave, but Edward offers to take him on a hike around the property while we're out.

The presents under the tree are dispatched in a relatively orderly fashion after breakfast. Everyone opens one present at a time, in order, a system I'm told only developed after everyone graduated college. There are more high-end gifts than I've ever seen in one place – an Apple watch, a couple of items with the distinctive Burberry plaid, and an actual vacation are among the presents – but there are also a couple of handmade gifts. There's even a present for me, a fancy cashmere scarf, hat and winter glove set that is softer than anything I own. I feel downright terrible for not even considering the possibility that Alice would buy me a present, and resolve to find something great for her today.

The last present is from Edward to Alice and Jasper, and I suspect it might be a gag gift. Do rich people give gag gifts?

Alice silently furrows her brow once she has the box open. "You're giving us $100,000?"

Oh shit. I know what's coming next, and it isn't going to be good. I see Carlisle shift out of the corner of my eye, and I know he's thinking the same thing.

"I'm not giving you anything. I'm investing in your restaurant. You're going to pay me back. The terms sheet is in the box too. You have to sign it and return it to me before you cash the check."

Alice looks back and forth between Edward and the check a couple times, then flies across the couch to give him a hug. Edward lets out an "oof" when she lands, and Alice the dog, who was sitting next to Edward on the couch, growls and barks at her. After Alice lets go of Edward, Jasper proceeds to thank him in a much calmer fashion. Then Alice and Jasper hug while Esme tearfully hugs Edward. I don't know anything about Alice and Jasper's financial situation or how much it costs to buy a restaurant, but it seems like Edward's investment is a big deal.

During the hugging, I find myself standing next to Carlisle, who leans down and whispers in my ear, "I was certain he was paying her to move out of our house for the next week."

"Me too," I whisper back. "I was preparing myself for World War III."

A half hour later, I'm in the back seat of a giant SUV while Alice studies a map of an outlet mall in Manchester and makes a list of stores to visit. I don't even know where the map came from – is it possible she carries maps of nearby shopping centers in her purse at all times? The drive is beautiful, and we travel through the same area Edward and I did on the way up last night, so it's nice to see it in daytime, even if the weather isn't great. I'm wary about going out in the snow – the Olympic peninsula doesn't get very much snow except at high elevations, and the only bad weather I learned to prepare for in Phoenix is sandstorms – so Esme spends some time educating me on driving in snow.

The outlet mall is a charming collection of buildings in a picturesque location. If it weren't for the hordes armed with shopping bags, it could be mistaken for a lovely mountain town. I find a couple stores selling winter gear, and I find a good warm pair of winter boots to replace my worn out galoshes from Seattle and a heavy down coat to add to my burgeoning collection of winter gear. I'm done shopping forty minutes after we arrive. The rest of my day is dedicated to following Alice around, trying to find something she likes to surreptitiously buy for her.

And I do mean the rest of the day. I don't know why Alice bothered making a list of stores in the car, because I swear we go in every single store. And Alice touches everything single thing in every single store. She doesn't buy a ton of stuff, but I think it might actually be more frustrating to spend a half hour in a store and leave empty handed than to watch her shop frivolously. When we stop for lunch around noon, Alice seems as exhausted as Esme and I, and I foolishly get my hopes up that we might be done. But it turns out there are a whole bunch of stores around the corner that I didn't even know about. I give up on buying a present for Alice; since she touches everything and buys almost nothing, it's impossible to tell what she actually likes. I practically collapse into the car at 2 pm when Esme insists we need to head home. On the way home, I get in a pretty decent nap in the back seat using my new down coat as a pillow, while Alice goes through her purchases in the front seat.

Jasper and Carlisle are at least a half hour away from having dinner ready when we get home, so Alice and Esme disappear upstairs for naps. Samson barely lifts his head from his spot on the rug in front of the fire when I walk in, so either Edward wore him out on their walk or Samson's spent so much time with Edward that he thinks I've given him away. Jasper and Carlisle refuse my offer to help, so I head upstairs to wash the outlet mall off me.

Now, I've never lived in a house with multiple bathrooms and lots of people to keep track of. I've never lived in a house with a bathroom with multiple entrances. Aside from my college dorm, I've only lived in houses with one bathroom. It's pretty clear: when the door is closed, you don't go in. But this jack and jill bathroom is different. The doors are always closed because otherwise Edward and I might as well be living together. So when I get upstairs and turn the handle and the door opens, it doesn't even occur to me that Edward's naked butt might be behind that door.

I don't see much. He's tying a towel around his waist, and turns away from my door when it opens, so all I really see is towel-covered butt. It's still mortifying.

"I…shit…sorry." I slam the door behind me so loud Emmett and Rose can probably hear it next door. I'm looking around the bedroom for a hole to hide in or a door to an alternate universe when I hear a knock on the door.

"Uh, come in." It's Edward, obviously, but thankfully he has his sweatpants on and not just a damp white towel.

"Sorry about that. It's my fault. I forgot to lock the door on your side. I'm out of practice with sharing a bathroom."

"Sure. No big deal. It's fine."

"Are you sure? You haven't looked at me since I walked in here."

I sigh and force myself to look him in the eye. He's smiling at me. "I'm the one who should be embarrassed, Bella."

I scoff. "Sure, Edward. You're clearly drowning in shame. This must be really hard for you."

"Okay, well, the bathroom is all yours. I'll see you downstairs."

"Hey, thanks for walking Samson."

"My pleasure. It's nice to have a dog who loves snow. Alice gets cold after a few steps and then hops around on three paws crying."

By the time I'm out of the shower and clean and dry, I think I've talked myself through my embarrassment. Then I get downstairs and see Edward setting the table and my face catches on fire again. I help Edward finish (admirably, I think, since I do it without looking at him) while Jasper and Carlisle go upstairs to get their spouses.

Dinner is delicious. Alice describes our shopping trip for a good fifteen minutes. Just when I feel like I'm developing PTSD, Emmett interrupts her and offers to describe what he and Rose did today in excruciating detail, which everyone declines. It turns out Jasper and Rose met today to go over the budget for the restaurant, and Edward's investment will allow them to buy the restaurant six months sooner than they planned, with some leftover for a decent renovation of the dining room and bar. Esme might be even more excited than Alice and Jasper are, and she starts brainstorming right there at the table.

After we eat, Emmett and Edward start to clean up the kitchen while Esme, Alice and Jasper head to her office to continue brainstorming. Since Emmett and Edward won't let me help, I feed the dogs and take them out for a walk. I break out my new coat and new boots, and Carlisle greets me at the door and asks to join me, since he wants to check the mailbox out on the main road. I'm grateful for Carlisle and his giant flashlight when I realize how dark it is outside. I guess I've become "citified," as my dad would say, because I've completely forgotten how dark it gets without streetlights. Alice starts hopping and crying as soon as she's done her business, so Carlisle picks her up and carries her the rest of the way. Carlisle asks me questions as we walk, but he doesn't probe too deeply after I tell him about my dad, for which I'm grateful. I'm also grateful he doesn't ask if I've seen any of his children naked recently.

It's so cold out my boobs hurt when we get back to the house, and my appreciation for my new boots and jacket almost make me look back fondly on our trip to the outlet mall. Almost. Inside the house, Alice and Jasper are still talking to Esme, but Edward, Emmett and Rose are on the couch watching TV. They've got a whole pumpkin pie in a tin sitting on Rose's baby bump and they're all eating out of it and then spraying whipped cream into their mouths.

"Does Jasper know you guys are demolishing one of his pies?" Carlisle asks a little too loudly.

"I'm pregnant," yells Rose.

"I'm sympathy eating," yells Emmett.

"I gave them $100,000," yells Edward.

Carlisle takes a second pie out of the refrigerator and has started slicing and plating it when Jasper and Alice come out of Esme's office. Jasper just smiles and shakes his head when he sees Edward, Emmett and Rose. When everyone has a slice, we all find a space on the massive U-shaped sectional. I'm the second to the last to sit down, so I take an empty space next to Edward. I try really hard to look at him when I sit, but I just can't.

"Hi Bella," he murmurs. I sigh, do my best to swallow my embarrassment, and look at him, and of course he's smiling at me.

"Hi Edward." And there go my cheeks. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Alice watching us.

"What did you do to Bella's face, Edward?"

"I flashed her."

"Uuuuuuuuuugh." I want to melt into the floorboards, but I settle for covering my beet red face.

"WHAT?!" That's Alice.

"HEY-YO!" That's Emmett.

"I forgot to lock the bathroom door when I was taking a shower earlier. She saw a little bit more than she wanted to." Well, I don't know if that's true. I just didn't want to see it the way I did. With a little bit of warning, I'd be perfectly fine with it.

"If Bella saw Edward naked, why is he smiling like the cat who ate the canary and she cringing in shame?" Alice asks.

"Misogyny," says Emmett.

"Good genes," says Carlisle.

"UUUUUUUUGHHHHHH." I think that's Alice.

"DAD!" I think that's Edward.

"CARLISLE!" Esme, I assume.

"Good genes and misogyny." Emmett again.

"Bella's going to climb down the lattice outside her room tonight and hitchhike back to New York if you guys keep this up," says Rose.

"Bella, I'm sorry my children and husband are so appalling. Please don't leave," says Esme. "And you should probably eat your slice of pie before the barbarians finish theirs and start to scavenger."

"I'm pregnant," repeats Rose.

"I'm sympathy eating," repeats Emmett.

"That's not a thing, Emmett," says Alice.

"I'm evaluating the soundness of my investment in Jasper's business," says Edward.

"What do you think?" Jasper asks.

"I'm considering taking repayment in pie," Edward responds.

When everyone quiets down, I realize _Elf_ is on the TV.

"You guys are watching _Elf_ again? Didn't we just watch this two days ago?" Did I imagine that?

"We LOVE _Elf_ ," Emmett deadpans. Rose and Jasper twitter and exchange a look, so I'm guessing I'm not the first person to notice the family fixation. If I have to watch a Christmas movie every other day, I guess I prefer _Elf_ to _A Christmas Story_ or _It's a Wonderful Life_.

By the time the movie is over, two whole pies are gone. Everyone argues about what to do the next day – Edward wants to go skiing, Alice wants to go shopping again, and Rose and Emmett want everyone to leave them be. Esme wants to go to Jasper's restaurant to take measurements so she can start work, but Jasper convinces her it would be better to go on Tuesday when the restaurant is closed. Carlisle puts his foot down and insists we find something everyone wants to do for at least part of the day, since everyone but Edward and I will have to go back to work to some extent come Monday. Everyone heads to bed promising to meet for breakfast in a more agreeable mind. And I head upstairs to practice my bathroom door locking and opening technique.


	8. December 27th

_Well, this chapter's kind of a downer, but Bella's got some stuff of her own to work through. They're getting closer, though, in fits and starts._

 _I hate describing places. I'm never satisfied. You would not believe how much time I spent looking at farmhouses on Zillow over the holidays, trying to find pictures that matched the Cullen home in my head. One of my cousins actually asked me if I was planning on moving to Vermont. So I'm pleased to announce that there is an actual restaurant in Vermont that I had in mind as the inspiration for Jasper's place. If you'd like to see pictures, just Google "The Foundry Killington."_

 _Thanks for all the support, internet friends. I am way, way out of practice with writing fiction, and it is such an unexpected pleasure to know what you're writing is connecting with people._

* * *

When a tiny furry alarm clock wakes me up early on Sunday morning, I knock on Edward's door as he instructed me the night before, and he magically appears a couple minutes later in his sexy glasses to take the dogs out. It snowed a little more overnight, and it looks downright frosty outside, and I've never been happier to get back into bed and pull the covers over my head.

I wake up again a couple hours later as folks start making noise going down the stairs. When I get downstairs, Carlisle is working on breakfast while Alice, Jasper and Esme sit around the island talking about the restaurant. Carlisle lets me set the table while we wait for Edward to get back with Emmett and Rose and the dogs.

Over breakfast, talk turns to everyone's plans for the day. Carlisle is still pushing a group activity, but there's no more agreement than there was last night. Rose announces that she's going to have a baby in two months, in the middle of tax season, and if she wants to spend a Sunday on the couch with her husband, no one's going to stop her. Then Jasper announces that he called Tony, the owner of his restaurant, last night, and he was so excited to hear they were ready to buy the restaurant that he invited the whole family to dinner at the restaurant on the house. Carlisle agrees that dinner suffices as a group activity, though I suspect he's powerless to resist Esme and Alice, who are practically vibrating with excitement over the possibility of visiting the restaurant and taking the measurements they'll need to start their renovation plans.

So Esme, Jasper and Alice plan to head to the restaurant in mid-afternoon when things are quiet, and Emmett agrees to go with them as the in-house construction expert. Rose, Carlisle, Edward and I will meet them there at seven for dinner. Carlisle offers to go skiing with Edward, but Edward says that he was up most of the night writing, so he'd rather wrap up what he's working on and get a few hours' sleep. Alice suggests a trip into the nearby town of Woodstock to walk around and have lunch, and "walk around" sounds suspiciously like shopping, but Carlisle and Esme like that idea, so I agree. Edward tells us to text him when we stop for lunch, and he might join us if he's up and ready to go.

Esme has a few items waiting at an antiques shop in the nearby village of Quechee, so we head there first. When we pull up outside what appears to be an old barn converted into an antiques market, I'm glad when Esme instructs Alice to stay in the car. We could be here for hours if she went in. Carlisle and Jasper go in with Esme, and come out a few minutes later with an armoire, a rocking chair, and two lamps, which amazingly all fit in the back of Esme's giant SUV. Before they can get back in the car, Alice jumps out and points out the "SALE" sign in the window of the home goods store next door, and she's on her way over before anyone can say a word.

"Well, she'll probably move faster if we're in there bugging her," says Jasper, and we follow behind him after Esme locks up the SUV.

When we get inside the store, ANICHINI, I realize that we won the battle but lost the war. ANICHINI is filled with beautiful fabrics, pillows, blankets, and sheets. Alice could spend an entire day touching everything in the store. And Esme isn't a very good bulwark. The store manager recognizes Esme, and offers to bring her coffee and take her on a tour of the newest items. Esme declines and says she's just shopping with her family today, but manager isn't ready to give up, so she trails behind Esme pointing things out to her.

After a quick trip around the store, I find Jasper sitting on a couch playing with his phone, and I decide to join him. Jasper's playing Words With Friends, so I start a game with him. Carlisle finds us a few minutes later, and suggests a short walk to a scenic point nearby while Alice and Esme shop.

Less than five minutes later, we're standing at an overlook next to an old covered bridge, a restored mill and a small waterfall. The rocks and mill are covered with rime ice, and it's a lovely New England scene. Carlisle points out the fancy restaurant in the mill and a glass blowing studio Esme is fond of. We're just about to turn around and head back when we hear a honk and see Esme pulling to the side of the road. We load up into the car and Alice chatters about all the great things we missed in the store for the few minutes it takes us to get to Woodstock.

Woodstock isn't as busy as Manchester's outlet stores, but it's still busier than I expect for a Sunday morning. Esme explains that Woodstock attracts a lot of ski weekend visitors from New York and Boston who got tired of crowds on the slopes or pulled a hamstring or decided they should spend some time with the family on the last day of their family vacation. Nonetheless, Esme and Carlisle seem to greet every third person by name. It's like a caricature of a small town – people even pull Carlisle aside to show him injuries or describe symptoms to him. They ask about Rose and the baby, and ask Alice about her wedding. After living in Forks for the better part of a decade, I'm used to small town familiarity, but no one would confuse Forks for a Norman Rockwell painting.

After a couple hours of "walking around," Carlisle and Jasper are carrying quite a few bags and everyone is ready for lunch. Jasper suggests an upscale deli run by a friend of his, and Esme texts Edward, but he doesn't reply so we go ahead without him. I'm discovering that nothing tastes better than anything I eat after shopping with Alice.

After lunch, Esme's eager to get home to drop off her antiques and pick up a few supplies before they head to the restaurant. Carlisle wants to visit the husband of an older woman he ran into in town who didn't seem to be responding well to his heart medication. Alice could keep going all afternoon, but I think she's mollified by the idea of heading to the restaurant and making a really big shopping list.

When we get home, Edward's eating a sandwich at the kitchen counter and Alice (the dog) is sitting on the barstool next to him, watching his sandwich move from the plate to his mouth. Samson's on the floor on his other side, drooling enthusiastically. Edward apologizes for missing lunch, saying he didn't wake up until just a few minutes ago. He seems pretty upbeat, though, so he must be happy with the writing he did overnight. When Carlisle and Jasper go out to the garage to unload Esme's SUV, Edward asks if I'd like to take the dogs out on a hike this afternoon.

"What kind of elevation gain does the word 'hike' entail?" I inquire.

"It doesn't have to entail any elevation gain at all, if you don't want it to. I took Samson up a hill to a little vantage point yesterday, but we can skip it if you want."

"And what do you do with Alice during this hike? She doesn't seem to be a big outdoorswoman."

Edward grins at me. "You'll see."

After I change into my closest approximation of hiking attire, we head out. We stop by the garage so that Edward can let Carlisle know we'll be out for a couple hours (SERIOUSLY?!) and we find Esme and Carlisle in a studio/storage space that takes up one end of the old barn. The garage also houses six cars and an old Ford truck with a flatbed. Carlisle asks Edward to describe the route he's taking "for safety" and Esme warns us about corner of the property frequented by an angry skunk.

Alice is done walking about thirty seconds into our (TWO HOUR) hike. Edward picks her up and unzips his jacket, revealing this sling contraption tied around his neck. He squeezes Alice into the sling and then zips up his jacket so she's cradled against his chest. It's kind of cute and kind of the creepiest thing I've ever seen.

"Why don't you just leave her at home?" I can't help but ask.

"It's Samson's fault. Before he showed up, she was perfectly fine being left home alone. But she can't stand the thought of being left home if Samson goes out."

"Yeah, okay, but you seem pretty comfortable with that sling thing. You just picked that up in the past two days since we got here?"

"Sometimes I use this in airports or on planes when she's agitated."

"So you're just going to carry her for two hours?"

"She weighs less than ten pounds. She'll probably want to get down periodically to harass Samson. And it doesn't have to be two hours if you get tired. I know you spent the morning following my sister around. Just remember to tell me when you're halfway to tired, since we still have to go back."

"Do you do this hike often?"

"Variations on it, yeah. It's not much of a hike, since the land my parents own is pretty flat. It slopes downward very gradually to a river about two miles away. There isn't much to see but trees until we get to the river. From there I like to climb a small ridge that runs along the edge of the property. The view is pretty good up there, but it doubles the length of the walk back to the house. The river's a good place for us to stop and see how you're feeling."

"And where's the angry skunk?"

"It's down by the river, but the other direction from where we're headed if we head up the ridge. There's no reason we should run into it."

"Your parents own all this land?"

"Their property is basically bound by the main road, the river, and the ridge, but the land by the river and along the ridge is part of the Upper Valley Land Trust, so it's protected under a conservation easement."

Edward and I walk along quietly for a while with just the quiet crunch of snow to keep us company. As fond as I've become of Alice and the rest of the Cullens, it's nice to be able to spend time with someone without talking all the time. Edward stops us a couple times to point out deer and an owl, but he doesn't seem to mind the quiet either. When we get to the river, Edward sets Alice down, then pulls out a bottle of water and collapsible bowl from inside his jacket. I suddenly realize I am very unprepared for this hike. Thankfully, Edward shares his water with me and Samson.

"So how tired are you?"

"How big is the climb up this ridge?"

"It's maybe a half a mile, at a 30% grade?"

"What's that in lazy person?"

"Have you spent much time on a stairmaster?"

I hold my hands out at my sides. "What do you think?"

"Okay. You've walked Samson from the house out to the main road, right? That's probably a half mile round trip. So imagine walking out to the main road and back, walking up a shallow set of stairs the whole way."

Ugh. "And you're saying my giant loaf of a dog did this with you yesterday?"

"Yes." No wonder he barely moved last night.

"Do you have a sling inside your jacket that would fit me?"

"Nope."

"Fine, but if I can't walk tomorrow I'm going to blame you."

Do you know what you should not do with a boy you think is cute? You should not climb a mountain next to him. A 30% grade doesn't sound like very much, but with the snow reducing our traction, I feel like I'm walking on sand. I spend the next thirty minutes huffing and puffing and grunting and dripping sweat while Edward strolls a few feet ahead of me, clearly moving slower than he's used to. I want to explain to Edward that the Swans are a nonathletic people who live in unpleasant climates and consequently spend most of their time indoors on couches, but I learn pretty quickly that talking only makes the huffing and puffing more obvious.

I stop walking when Edward does, and it takes me a few moments to stop seeing spots and realize we're on top of the ridge. It doesn't even feel like we're that high, but we do have a nice view of the mountains and a couple nearby towns. Edward puts Alice down and shares his water again.

"So, what do you think? Was it worth the climb?" I eye Edward and his satisfied smile.

"I dunno, Edward, you seem like one of those people who thinks physical activity is intrinsically rewarding. I'm not sure we're speaking the same language here."

He laughs. "Is that a no?"

"I suspect I will feel a vague sense of accomplishment when I recover feeling in my knees, and I might even look back on this day fondly. But I don't think I will ever feel as happy about it as you do right now."

"That's a lot of words to say no. You were born to work in publishing."

"My brain's oxygen deprived at the moment, so I can't tell if you're insulting me or not."

"I probably insult you a whole lot more often than I intend to." Edward looks down at his shoes and then pins me with his gaze. His eyes are as grey as the sky today. "I think very highly of you, Bella, even if I don't always show it very well."

If you say so. "I think very highly of you, too, Edward, and I hope you already know that."

He nods and looks back down at his shoes.

"Well. Are you guys ready for the final leg? It's all downhill from here."

"That's what all the boys say. Let's go."

Edward opens up a little bit along the way home and tells me about his progress with his next book, which sounds about a third done. Edward says he's been writing at night since he got here, and he's made his way over a couple stumbling blocks. I ask if he's thought about staying up here to write after the holidays, and he says he'd go stir crazy with Alice, Jasper, Emmett and Rose in such close proximity. He was fifteen the last time all three of them lived under the same roof, and that was without spouses. Although he talks about how crowded and noisy it is with everyone around, it also sounds like he feels like the odd man out around three couples.

The rest of the walk is manageable, but I'm still delighted to get home. I've cooled off quite a bit along the way (thanks to my sweat drying on my skin, Edward informs me, and ugh), so I'm glad to see there's a fire going in the fireplace and I take Edward up on his offer to make hot chocolate. When it's ready, he suggests we go to the enclosed porch on the other side of the fireplace.

"Bella, I've been thinking a lot about your dad," Edward says once we've settled on the couch. I immediately want to leave, but I take a moment and swallow my dread.

"So you've made me sweat, and now you want to make me cry?"

"I don't want to make you cry, but…it's important, Bella. You're an incredibly strong, self-sufficient person. That's obvious to anyone who knows you. But now that I know the story with your dad, it's equally obvious that you're carrying around a huge amount of pain. And it's holding you back."

"What do you want me to do about it? My dad died. It's not unusual to be grieving a year after you lose a parent." Cue the waterworks.

"There's nothing wrong with grieving, you're absolutely right. But that isn't the only thing you're grieving. You're also grieving your relationship with your dad. You're mad at him and you're mad at yourself for being mad at him and you're mad because you'll never be able to tell him how much he hurt you. How are you ever going to resolve that? He will never apologize to you for hurting you. How are you ever going to remember your dad without drowning in sorrow and anger?"

It takes me a couple minutes before I'm able to reply. "You don't know me very well, Edward."

"Are you telling me I'm wrong, or are you telling me to butt out and leave you alone? I know I'm overstepping my bounds, but if I were wrong, I don't think you would feel the way you do right now." He pauses and sighs. "You can be a good writer without being very good at reading people, but it makes the job a hell of a lot harder. I'm not saying I haven't made mistakes, read people wrong. But seeing people's stories, the way they tie together the things that happened in their past in a cohesive whole that explains who they are, that's my job."

I hate this conversation. "And what do you think my story is?"

Edward pauses before replying. "The point of the story your dad told isn't necessarily that your parents didn't want you. I bet your dad would be appalled to know that's what you took from it. But that's what it means to you, unequivocally. Because that wasn't the first time your parents made you feel unwanted. I don't know the whole story, obviously, but your dad let you go when you were young, didn't put up a fight over custody. Your mom let you go when you were a teenager so she could spend more time with her husband. She doesn't see you for Christmas because she's doing her own thing. Whether they meant to or not, whether you were consciously aware of it or not, I suspect your parents didn't do very much to show you how important you were to them. When your dad told you that story, it confirmed something you've felt for a long time."

Edward stops talking for a minute, and I wonder if I can end this conversation by just not responding.

"It's terrible that you feel that way, Bella, but the worst part is it's holding you back." I guess not. "I think this stuff with your parents is the reason you're so insistent on earning a job fair and square. I'm not saying they were abusive or neglectful, but when you don't believe that you're important to your parents, it's hard to believe you're important to anyone else. You work so hard because you're constantly trying to prove yourself. You probably worked hard all throughout school just to prove to your parents that you're a worthwhile kid, that you deserved to be important to them. And now you're trying to do it through work."

I wonder if he'd notice if I left, or if he'd just keep on telling an empty room what's wrong with me.

"You came to New York to pursue your dream job. I may not think your dream job is all that great—"

"Edward, I swear to God, I am in no mood to discuss the commercialization of art and the bastardization of the publishing industry."

"I know, I'm sorry I brought it up. Strike that. You came to New York for your dream. You did an incredibly brave thing. Don't let your parents' bullshit hold you back. No one who's worth a damn will think less of you because I helped you get a stupid interview you should have had anyway. Anyone who does is a jealous, petty fool who would've found some other reason to judge you."

"Man, you are fucking terrible at inspirational speeches."

Edward sighs. "I know. I'm sorry. I hate saying things that hurt you, but I hate knowing how much your dad hurt you."

"I'm sorry I told you about that, Edward. I would take it back if I could."

"That's not what I mean."

"You met me less than a month ago. Until a week ago, I was pretty sure you hated me more than anyone else on earth. You aren't responsible for my career or my mental health, Edward."

"Bella—"

"Look, I'm really tired. I'm going to lie down for a little while. What time do we need to leave for dinner?"

When Edward doesn't reply, I turn to look at him. "What time do we need to leave?"

"6:15 or so."

"See you then."

Samson follows me upstairs and watches me anxiously while I cry.

* * *

I wake up at 5:30 when my alarm goes off, and I instantly regret falling asleep after crying. My head is pounding, my eyes are dry and swollen, and I discover when I stand up that my legs barely work. And it's all Edward's fault.

I can't help but think about him as I shower and get ready for dinner. I'm not mad at him. I know he's right about a lot of things. I'm the one who told him about my dad, and I know he doesn't bring it up to be malicious. I guess, at the end of the day, I'm just embarrassed. I know next to nothing about Edward, and he's got a full psychological profile of me. It wouldn't freak me out if he were my grief counselor, but he's my friend's brother. I'm still working on believing that Edward doesn't hate me. Trusting him with the things that hurt me the most is just more than I can do right now.

When I get downstairs, Carlisle and Rose are sitting on the couch chatting. Carlisle says Edward is out walking the dogs, so I join them and answer their questions about the hike we went on. When Edward gets back with the dogs, we head out to the garage and load into Carlisle's car. I can see Edward watching me and trying to catch my eye, but there's no way I'm opening the door to whatever conversation he wants to have in front of Rose and Carlisle. Fortunately, Rose and Carlisle keep up a pretty steady stream of chatter all the way to the restaurant.

The restaurant, Tony's, is in a beautiful setting off the road that leads to the Killington ski resort. It's a big old A-frame mill building with a brook along one side of the building feeding a pond on the other side of the building. The building is divided approximately in half, with a bar and stage at one end of the building and the restaurant at the other end. There are huge stone fireplaces at each end of the building. Like everywhere else in Vermont, it is far busier than I expected it to be.

The hostess leads us to the far end of the restaurant and up some stairs into a loft that is set up as a semi-private dining room. Esme, Alice, Jasper and Emmett are there with a large, jovial man introduced to me as Tony. Tony greets Edward particularly enthusiastically and thanks Edward effusively for enabling him to move to Florida six months early. Tony heads downstairs, promising to return with wine and appetizers. Esme has some butcher block paper laid out with sketches and notes, and she shows Carlisle and Rose some of their ideas while she's cleaning up the table. All of sudden, Edward is at my elbow.

"Can I talk to you for a minute, Bella?" I check the table to make sure no one is paying us any attention.

"Can we just leave it alone for the night, Edward? I can't talk about this in front of everyone. I promise I'm not mad at you. I'm sorry if I gave you that impression. Don't worry about it, okay?"

"Can we talk about it some other time?"

"Sure. The next time I want to cry, I'll seek you out, I promise."

He sighs and runs his hand through his hair. "Great."

"Come sit, guys," Alice calls us over. Fortunately, there are three empty seats at the table, and they aren't next to each other. I sit down between Jasper and Emmett and grab a menu from the middle of the table.

"So, Jasper, what should I order?"

"Tony makes the pasta by hand, so that's always a good bet. I recommend the beef and lamb – both come from farms nearby, so they're about as fresh as you can get. The fish and pork travel the furthest distance, so they're both frozen. Those are my least favorite dishes."

"Yes, yes, frozen food is evil," Tony booms from behind us. For a big guy, he sure is stealthy. "Which appetizer do you want, Miss Bella?"

"Anything cheesy." Tony puts a basket of mozzarella sticks in front of me, and Emmett cheers next to me. Come to mama.

While we dig into appetizers, the servers Tony brought up take our orders. When everyone has food and drinks, Tony takes a seat. Jasper asks him to tell the history of the restaurant, which he bought in the 1980s from a family that converted the mill to a restaurant in the 1960s. Tony's a natural storyteller, and he entertains everyone with tales of the more outlandish diners he's met over the years. He pokes fun at Jasper's farm-to-table ideas, and Jasper jokes about Tony's fondness for putting cauliflower in things, and Tony seems like a great boss. He is clearly proud of his restaurant, but he doesn't seem at all defensive when Jasper talks about some of his plans for the future. And everything I eat is delicious.

I just sip at my wine to be polite and avoid refills, but the rest of the table doesn't hold back. By the time our servers bring out a dozen desserts, Tony, Esme, Alice and Emmett are all talking twice as loud as usual, and none of them were soft spoken to begin with. Edward has been quiet throughout dinner, but I'm pretty sure he's gone through a whole bottle himself. Carlisle drives Jasper, Alice and Esme home in the SUV, and Rose drives Emmett, Edward and I home in Carlisle's car. Rose and Emmett head to their house as soon as we get home, but the rest of the family seems to be gathering in the living room. I'm happy to have the excuse of taking the dogs out to get a little quiet. Despite my afternoon nap, this whole day has just wiped me out. When the dogs and I get back, I apologize for being so tired and head up to my room.

* * *

 _Good stuff happening next chapter, friends. No, not THAT._


	9. December 28th

I'm emotionally drained, but thanks to my afternoon nap, I just can't get to sleep. I listen to Samson snore and think about how I'm going to deal with Edward tomorrow. The rest of the family has work obligations that will tie them up for at least part of the week. A few days ago, I had no problem with spending time alone in the house with Edward, but now I don't know. If I want to preserve my relationship with Alice, I can't just pack up and leave with no explanation. And I really don't want to explain this. I feel trapped.

After I hear a bunch of footsteps on the stairs and doors closing, I figure everyone's gone to bed and I can sneak downstairs to get something to drink. I stop short when I step into the kitchen and realize there are still two people sitting in front of the fire in the living room. I moonwalk back into the shadows and I'm on my way back upstairs when I realize they're talking about me.

"So you're refusing to tell me what happened with Bella?"

Is it eavesdropping if they're talking about me? I mean, of course it is, but it's morally justified, right?

"I don't suppose it occurs to you that she would tell you if she wanted you to know."

"I've been a little busy, Edward."

"Yeah, spending the money I gave you."

"Excellent deflection, Edward, but cut the crap. She's moping around and you're staring at her morosely. As the person who inflicted you upon her, I feel responsible."

I can hear Edward sigh from my seat on the stairs. Don't judge me. "I was trying to help. You wanted me to help her find a job. She won't take my help because…of some self-esteem problems. I was trying to convince her to not hold herself back."

"How?"

"By telling her why she's holding herself back."

"You're such a moron."

"She'll be gone in a week. We'll go back to New York, and you guys will probably Facetime or something, but she sure as hell isn't going to talk to me anymore. If we're going to help her, we have to get through to her."

"And you think the way to get through to someone with quote-unquote self-esteem problems is by telling them what's wrong with them?"

"It's not her fault. It's shit other people have done to her. I was very clear about that."

"That's not the point, Edward. Do you think she trusts you? You take every opportunity to tell her what's wrong with her, and her professional goals—"

"I wasn't telling her what's wrong with her. I was telling her what's wrong with her parents."

"Oh, well, that's completely different. No one ever takes it personally when you criticize their family members. Especially when they have self-esteem problems."

"I've told her a few times how smart and hard-working I think she is. It hasn't made her any more inclined to accept my help."

"At this point, I don't care if she accepts your help. I want my friend to get a shot at her dream job, but more than anything else, I want my friend to be happy. She isn't happy right now."

"I want her to be happy too, Alice. I don't think Paradigm is going to make her happy, but if it's what she wants, I want to help her. I'm just trying to help her."

"I know your heart is in the right place. I know you wouldn't be trying so hard if you didn't care about her. I just think you're out of practice."

"With what?"

"Talking to people. Caring about people."

"I care plenty, Alice. If you don't believe me, you can give me back my check."

"Look, Edward, I appreciate the check more than you can possibly know, but if you're going to throw it back in my face every time we talk, I'll tear it up right now."

Edward sighs. "You're right. I'll stop."

"I know you care about the people in this house, Edward. I'm talking about friends. Who else do you have to count on, other than family?"

"I haven't met a whole lot of good people in the past couple years, Alice. You know that."

"I'm not talking about that asshole who gave you coke." Er…what?

"You're going to have to be more specific. There were lots of assholes who gave me coke." I shouldn't be listening to this.

"You haven't met one decent person since your book came out?"

"I met Bella."

"Yes, because of me. You're welcome. Stop fucking it up."

Edward sighs. "I don't know how. I don't know I'm fucking it up until I've done it."

"Just be kind to her. She's been through a lot in the past year. Being her friend doesn't mean fixing her."

When Alice says she needs to go to bed, I scramble to get upstairs and into my room as quietly as possible. I feel terrible about listening in, especially since they were talking about things that didn't involve me, but I feel a little better understanding Edward's motivation. I don't love the idea of the Cullens sharing notes about poor unemployed Bella with the low self-esteem, but maybe that's my low self-esteem talking.

I sleep fitfully through the night, due to naps and anxiety and the furry monster who kicks me throughout the night and ignores me when I remind him he has his own bed. I thought I'd be able to sleep in, since canine Alice isn't with us, but Samson is up with the sun in the morning. I'm hoping it's just because he didn't get a late walk last night and not because he's picking up Alice's early morning habits.

Alice appears from somewhere when she hears me open the front door, so I take both dogs out. When they're done, I head back to the kitchen to fix them breakfast, and I'm surprised to see Edward sitting at the dining room table, staring at the coffee cup in his hands. I'm considering sneaking right back out of the room when he looks up at me.

"Morning, Edward."

"Hi Bella." He looks exhausted, but even with dark circles under his eyes, he's ridiculously attractive. It's unfair for anyone to look that good after rolling out of bed. "Can we talk?"

"Now? You look tired. We can talk later, Edward. I told you, I'm not mad at you."

"I can't sleep. I feel terrible. Please."

"Okay."

I feed the dogs and then follow Edward to the enclosed porch, the room of unpleasant conversations.

"You know what I said about your dad's story? That what you heard reflected what you felt, and probably wasn't what he intended you to hear?"

"Yeah." I don't need a recap, Edward.

"I did the same thing. I thought what I was telling you would help you, set you free or something. That sounds terribly arrogant…it probably was. But I was focusing on what I wanted to say, and I didn't think about how it would sound to you. I still think I'm right, but being right is less important than being supportive, and I wasn't being supportive. I'm really sorry."

"I know it wasn't malicious. I knew that while you were saying it, but it didn't make me feel better. I know you're right, at least in part, but I didn't come here looking for a grief counselor. I mean, maybe I should, but that's not the point."

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Maybe."

"Is your grief now any better than it was a year ago? When you get sad thinking about your dad, are you as sad as you were then?"

"It's not better or worse, just different. It used to be more about loneliness – I'd watch a show my dad used to enjoy, or the Seahawks would win a game, or I'd cook something he liked to eat, and I'd be sad that I can't share those things with him anymore. We liked all the same things. Doing them alone made me feel very alone, like existentially alone, like I'll never feel that close to anyone again. I still feel that sometimes, but less often. The hurt that he caused when he was alive still feels the same. You're right that I don't know what I'm going to do with that."

"Maybe it would help to talk to someone about that. Look, what I said yesterday was so foolish. Just because I see how sad you are doesn't mean I have the skills – or the right – to tell you how to handle it. Have you talked to anyone else about what he told you?"

"No."

"It means a lot to me that you trusted me enough to tell me. I'm sorry I didn't…respond better."

"You did, initially. You gave me a hug. It made me feel better."

"So that's all it takes?"

"It was a good hug." He smiles, a genuine smile with teeth showing and everything, and even with dark circles under his eyes and crazy hair, it's like the clouds are parting and the sun is shining on me.

"Look, Edward, about the job—"

"We don't have to talk about that anymore. You know I'll do everything I can to help you, right? All you have to do is ask. But I won't push."

"Maybe you're right about my parents and all of that. But that doesn't change the fact that I came to New York to prove something to myself. Whatever happens, I need to feel good about it, you know? It probably sounds sad, but work the most important thing in my life right now. If I can't take pride in it, what will I have left?"

"You don't have to be ashamed of getting a little help. But if you can't live with it, that's your call. I want to be your friend, Bella. Not your grief counselor or your career counselor."

"I think we are friends, Edward. One of us just has some trouble with boundaries."

"Well, I can't promise it won't happen again. My skills as a friend are kind of rusty. It's been a long time since I've been close to anyone other than my bossy siblings and inappropriate parents. Cullens aren't great at boundaries."

"Speaking of…I don't want to make things awkward, or more awkward, between you and Alice, but I'd appreciate it if you don't tell her about the stuff with my dad."

"You don't have to worry about that. I won't tell anyone. But she knows something was going on with us last night, so she might ask you about that."

"She wouldn't be Alice if she didn't. So will you be able to sleep now?"

"Yes. Thanks for giving me a chance to talk to you."

When Edward and I walk through the doors back into the living room, Carlisle, Esme, Alice and Jasper are all sitting at the dining room table eating breakfast while the dogs beg at their feet. All six heads swivel to look at us, and the humans all smile innocently at us.

"I wonder if they were talking about us," Edward grumbles under his breath.

Carlisle offers us the leftover eggs and bacon on the stove, and we join them at the table. Alice and Jasper have meetings with their bank and a real estate lawyer, and they're working the dinner shift at the restaurant. Esme's going with them to meet the lawyer and then to meet a potential client. Carlisle has patients all day. As the resident unemployed person, I offer to go to the grocery store with a list Carlisle's making, and volunteer Edward to drive me, seeing as how we're friends now. Edward announces he's going upstairs to take a nap, and after the restless night I had, a nap sounds appealing.

"It's fine, Bella, you're on vacation," Alice says. "You can take a nap too if you want."

"You say vacation, I say unemployed. Anyway, the reason I slept so poorly last night was because I napped yesterday. I need to break the habit."

"Break it later. Live it up."

I wish everyone a good day and head upstairs. On the way up, I hear Carlisle.

"Do you think they're napping…together?"

When I wake up a couple hours later, the house is silent so I take a book down to the enclosed porch. It's a lovely room when no one is lecturing you on your shortcomings, with a view of the Green Mountains and the ski runs at Killington. I read until I hear noise from upstairs, then head to the kitchen to make lunch for Edward and I. He still looks sleepy and grumpy, but he perks up after a sandwich and a big mug of coffee.

"Thanks for making lunch. We should head out to the store, right?"

"Yeah, if that's okay with you. I could go by myself if, uh, you don't mind me driving your car."

"It's fine, I don't mind going."

I take a deep breath and prepare myself for what I want to say next. "So, look, Edward, I want to tell you something, because I get the impression trust is a big deal for you, and if I broke it, I want you to know now."

Edward sighs and crosses his arms over his chest. "Okay."

"I…was coming downstairs for a glass of water late last night and I overheard you and Alice talking. I thought everyone had gone to bed."

Edward rolls his eyes and slumps a little. "Is that all? That's not a big deal. It's impossible not to overhear things in this house. If you share a wall with someone, they hear everything you do. My friends in high school used to call it the Spy House. If Alice and I both have our closet doors open, we can have a conversation with each other through the wall. I don't even want to think about the sounds that came from Emmett's room when I was a kid. That's why I keep taking you out on the porch – when there's a fire going, it's the only room in the house where you won't be overheard."

"So you aren't angry?"

"Nah. Anyway, all you could have heard is Alice yelling at me about how I've been treating you, which certainly wouldn't be a surprise to you."

"Yeah…" Man, what do I do now? I should just leave it alone, right?

"Oh. You heard me talking about doing coke."

"I did, but I want you to know I won't ever ask about it, or tell anyone about it. I just wanted you to know that I heard it, so I wouldn't be hiding anything from you. I feel terrible about intruding—"

"Bella, calm down. You feel worse about hearing about it than I do about doing it, and I feel pretty bad about doing it." He runs a hand through his hair and looks out the window. "Why don't we head out to the store? We can talk along the way."

Edward's quiet and scowly while we get the dogs ready to go on a walk before we leave, but he starts talking while we're walking.

"There's a long version of this story and a short version, and I'm going to tell you the long version because it makes me feel better, and maybe it will help you understand why I've been such as asshole about you wanting to work at Paradigm."

"Okay." He sighs deeply.

"I really had no idea what I was in for when Paradigm agreed to publish my book. I had been writing it, in bits and pieces, for years, but it was just a creative outlet. I certainly never expected this kind of success. Paradigm didn't, either, because they assigned me this wonkish nonfiction editor. He was easy to work with but kind of aloof. I didn't know what to expect from an editor, so it seemed fine. But then, right before the final version was approved, Paradigm asked me to cut out a huge chunk of the book. They wanted to gut it in order to make it more commercial. My editor was just out to lunch. He didn't care. He didn't fight for me or for the book. I took the book to a couple other publishers, which burned some bridges and pissed off everyone. Paradigm agreed to restore most of the book when I got an offer from another publisher, but everyone in the company hated me by then. Looking back on it, I can't blame them, but I was just a kid. A really disillusioned kid.

"Anyway, they sent me out on a book tour with a PR rep. I was even more clueless about publicity. The book tour was originally supposed to just be bookstores, small readings and signings. But the reviews came out and everything stepped up a couple gears. TV and radio interviews, newspaper profiles. At some point, Paradigm decided—I guess people were as interested in me as they were in the book."

Of course they were, ridiculously attractive boy.

"I'd show up places and there would be huge life-size cutouts of me. People would bring photos for me to sign, instead of books. It was…weird. In my wildest dreams, I never would have expected anything like it to follow from writing a book. I felt like a rat in a cage, running on a treadmill. I was frustrated and exhausted and the only thing I was sure of was that I was never, ever going to write again."

"The PR guy thought it was all wonderful, of course. He was a walking pharmacy. I think he offered me Xanax the day I met him. When I was tired he offered me coke. When Paradigm started to ask about the next book and I flipped out, he offered me Adderall. He was an unpleasant human being in every way, but he was the only constant in my life for five months straight."

"Anyway, we ended up in L.A., and by the time we got there, people were talking about turning the book into a movie or TV series. I was…courted, I guess? Every night we had dinner with a different producer or director, then there were three different parties or events for us to go to."

Edward stops talking, and when he's quiet for a couple minutes, I suggest we take the dogs in and head for the store. He's quiet until we get on the road.

"The first time I used was at a house party in the Hollywood Hills. I wish I could tell you why I finally said yes, after months of saying no. Everywhere we went, it seemed like every other person offered me something. Maybe I was just tired of feeling out of place? I don't know, every reason I've ever come up with just sounds like a pathetic excuse. I woke up the next morning swearing I would never do it again. I had the worst headache I've ever had in my life. My brain felt like it was shrinking inside my skull. It left this terrible, metallic taste in my mouth that I couldn't get rid of. I was such a grouch."

"Um, Edward, I don't think you can blame cocaine for turning you into a grouch."

"You haven't seen anything. I was terrible to everyone, but it didn't matter. We still got invited everywhere. I swear, women liked me more the worse I treated them. I woke up every morning hating myself and everyone around me, and I spent every night getting high. Coke was the armor I put on to prepare myself to spend time in that world."

He goes quiet again for a little bit.

"One night I was at a party and a girl came up to me. I had no idea who she was. My hand on a bible, I would have sworn we had never met. She told me we had sex a while back, and she just found out she was pregnant. I told her she had the wrong guy, and she showed me a selfie of the two of us from the night we met. It was like I was looking at someone else. I wasn't in any state of mind to deal with that news. I got high for, like, three days straight, and then I called Rose."

"Emmett's Rose?"

"Yeah. I didn't know who to trust. Rose is family, and she's really great at putting emotions aside and looking at problems objectively. She flew out the next day, and the first thing she did was take me to meet with a lawyer. She had found him online, and hired him over the phone, and asked him to hire a private detective, before she even booked her flight. She drove me straight to a detox facility after the lawyer. They looked into the girl - and her boyfriend - while I was away at detox. By the time Rose picked me up a week later, the girl, Lauryn, had admitted the baby might be her boyfriend's, but she refused to do a DNA test until the baby was born. We spent a couple weeks talking about custody and child support agreements, and then Lauryn called my lawyer one day and said she miscarried."

"Holy crap, Edward. This is some soap opera shit." Edward grimaces.

"Yeah. My good buddy Jeremy, the PR guy, suggested I turn it into my next book."

"I'm sorry about the baby, Edward." Is that the right thing to say? I have no idea. "Were you sad about the baby?"

"To be honest, I've never sorted out how I feel about the baby. Initially, my head was scrambled from the coke, then I was in detox, then my head was scrambled by Rose, the lawyer and the PI. The lawyer thought it was a scam all along, that Lauryn had sex with me after she knew she was pregnant, and there was never any chance the baby was mine. The PI thought it was possible that we never slept together, that she was trying to take advantage of the fact that I was so out of it when she met me. Rose thought maybe there never was a baby, that she was just trying to squeeze whatever she could out of me before the scam fell apart."

"Wow."

"Yeah. I still have a hard time believing it was some big scam. I'm not an actor with millions of dollars at my disposal. Especially back then, when I basically lived with my parents and still had student loans to pay off. If it was a scam, she could have found a much better target."

"Did you ever go to rehab?"

"No. The doctor and counselors at detox all agreed that I didn't need to. I hadn't been using very long, and I hadn't been using very heavily, which was surprising to hear. I felt like a junkie, but the doctor said I was a recreational user on a binge. I didn't go through withdrawal. They told me I should start outpatient counseling, and I did."

"Are you okay now? I mean, do you ever miss it?"

"I can't even think about coke without thinking about the panic and anger and dread that I felt back then. If I could set aside the actual loss and tragedy involved in what happened, I'd thank Lauryn for it, because she might have saved me from a much worse outcome. But I'm not any more comfortable with fame than I was back then. When I have to go out and put on a show for people, I wish there was something I could do to silence the voices in my head. It's really hard to hate yourself when you're high."

"Do you really have to do all that stuff? I mean, by this point, the books practically sell themselves, don't they?"

"I don't think anyone at Paradigm is familiar with the concept of books selling themselves. It's better than it was, though. When I turned in the first draft of the second book, I told them things were going to have to change. They reassigned me to Jason, who, for all his terrible qualities, is a big help when I disagree with Paradigm. They fired Jeremy, the PR guy, when they heard about all of it. It wasn't their fault, though. My decisions, my mistakes. Besides, I'm more than well-compensated for the inconvenience of having to go out on the road and meet people who like my books. And I have Alice waiting for me in my hotel room, which keeps me from staying at any party too long."

We're both quiet for a little bit, until he pulls into a shopping center parking lot.

"I'm glad you're okay, Edward."

"Thanks, Bella. I am too."

"Do you think I could find one of those cardboard cutouts of you on EBay?" He rolls his eyes and sighs.

"Emmett has one. If my behavior in the future ever prompts you to wonder if I actually like you, please remember I told you that."

When we get home from the store, Esme tells us Carlisle is running late, so I offer to make chicken parmesan, which was my dad's favorite. When Esme, Carlisle, Emmett, Rose, and Edward all rave about it, I feel great. I feel even better when Emmett takes me out to the garage to show me cardboard Edward, and then helps me sneak it into my room.

* * *

 _True story: research with rats indicates that cocaine literally makes your brain eat itself. And the money Americans spend on drugs is fueling violence here and abroad that has killed hundreds of thousands of uninvolved civilians. Whatever else you think about my story, I hope you don't think I'm minimizing the danger or impact of drug use._

 _Now Bella and Edward have laid their cards on the table, so to speak. Where will they go from here? I can't believe I thought I could tell this story in ten chapters. It'll probably be closer to twenty. Rookie mistake._

 _I got a ton of new readers today, which probably means someone awesome has recommended me. Thank you, whoever you are. Have a good week, and thank you for reading._


	10. December 29th

_Hello again. Sorry for the delay with this chapter, I came down with pneumonia a couple weeks ago and it knocked me out. I'm not back at 100% yet, but I promise the next chapter won't take three weeks._

 _A quick recap: Bella is staying with the Cullens for Christmas, who are lovely and overwhelming. In a misguided attempt to push Bella to accept his help getting a job at Paradigm, Edward basically called her sad, depressed, and suffering from low self-esteem, which went over like a lead balloon. Edward apologized, and after Bella overheard a little about his past, explained why he's such a distrustful grump, which involves a lonely press tour, a coke binge, and a pregnancy and miscarriage - or maybe not._

 _Thanks so much for reading, I hope you continue to enjoy it._

* * *

The sun is just coming up on Tuesday morning when a knock on my door wakes me up. Edward pokes his head in and gathers Samson, who follows Edward downstairs much more cheerfully than he has followed me the past couple days. I think my dog is in love. I throw the covers back over my head and revel in the fact that I don't have to take the dogs out – until I remember cardboard Edward hanging out in my closet.

I've had a couple ideas of how to use it. I know Edward doesn't have any pleasant memories associated with his life-size cutouts, but we've had a couple heavy, depressing days, and I want to try to make him smile, if I can. So I get out of bed and carry cardboard Edward into the bathroom, position him in front of the mirror where he was standing when I barged in, and tie a towel around his waist. Then I dive back under the covers. If I hates it, I figure I can fake sleep to buy myself a little time to figure out how to apologize to him. When he and the dogs come in and back up the stairs like a herd of elephants, I hold my breath, and I'm relieved when I hear the bathroom light click on and Edward starts laughing. (By the way, he's right that you can hear everything in this house, which makes me feel like even more of a dummy for walking in on him in the bathroom.)

I read in bed until I hear other folks going up and down the stairs, and then join everyone in the kitchen, where Carlisle is making waffles. I'm surprised Alice and Jasper are up this early, since they weren't home from the restaurant when I went to bed last night, but the restaurant is closed on Tuesdays and they've decided it's a good day for skiing. They're texting Emmett, who seems to require absolutely no convincing to join them, and working a little harder to convince Edward, which seems weird since he was eager to go just a couple days ago.

"Do you ski, Bella?" Esme asks.

"Ah, no. I fall. I don't mind ski lodges, though. I am very proficient at reading and drinking hot chocolate in front of a fire."

"Have you skied before, or are you just assuming you'll be bad at it?" Edward asks.

"It's an educated guess, Edward. I have enough trouble walking on flat surfaces. I see no need to test myself by strapping polished wood to my feet. Anyway, my ex tried to teach me once and I almost broke my leg jumping out of a ski lift. I took that as a message from God that I should proceed no further."

"There's other stuff there too, Bella. Snow tubing, and this big mountain go-cart slide thing. If I can get a couple of runs in before lunch, I'll go tubing with you in the afternoon," Alice offers.

"Are you sure? I don't want you to miss out on skiing, since you're so excited. I don't mind entertaining myself while you guys do your thing. We only children are very, very good at entertaining ourselves."

"I'm meeting with that couple who are opening a B-and-B in Middlebury this afternoon. I could drop Bella off at Killington on my way. That way she can spend the morning reading in front of our fire instead of fighting for a good seat at the lodge," Esme suggests.

After a whole lot more conversation, the plan is solidified. If the view from the peak is good when they get there, Rose and I will join them for lunch at the cafeteria at the peak. If the peak is socked in, I'll meet them at the cafeteria at the bottom of the hill, since Rose "isn't taking a two hour lunch just to fight with sticky children and grumpy New Yorkers for a table with a view of the parking lot."

About an hour after they leave, Alice texts me that the peak is clear and Rose will meet me at the gondola that runs to the peak. After loading up Esme's SUV with samples and swatches, Esme and I leave for Killington at noon.

"I'm so glad we get a few minutes to talk alone, Bella," Esme says once we're on the road. "I hope you're having a good time here. I know my little brood can be a lot to take when we all get together."

"You have a really lovely family, Esme. It's certainly different from what I grew up with, but it's wonderful how close and supportive you all are."

"Are getting along okay with everyone? I don't mean to pry, but I noticed you and Edward were both down in the dumps this weekend. Is it because of the bathroom thing? I'm sorry Emmett and Carlisle were such boors about that."

"No, no, Emmett and Carlisle didn't bother me, and the bathroom thing was embarrassing, but certainly no reason to be mad at Edward. Edward's been, well, trying to help me with some professional stuff, offering to help me get a job at Paradigm, and I haven't felt right about accepting his help. He's been trying to convince me I'm wrong to turn him down, and in the process he said some stuff that was a little…hard for me to hear. But we sorted it out. We're fine now."

She's quiet for a minute, and I hope I haven't said anything inappropriate or offensive.

"Well, I'd say that I'm sure he only had the best intentions, but intentions aren't the most important thing when you hurt someone."

"You really don't have to explain for him, Esme. We talked and we're okay, really. The stuff he said wasn't wrong, I just wasn't comfortable hearing it from someone I don't know very well."

We drive in silence for a little while. It's a beautiful, cold, clear day, with sun reflecting off the snow on the ground. "You know, Bella, for what it's worth, I've never seen Edward be as protective of anyone as he is of you. You may not know him very well right now, but I hope you'll give him a chance to make it up to you. I hope I'm not overstepping the way that Edward did. But judging by the way he talks about you, I think he could be a very good friend to you. It's up to you, of course. As Alice's friend you'll always be welcome in our house."

"Well, it's probably out of my hands at this point, anyway. Edward and Samson have started a grand love affair, and I don't think Samson would let Edward go even if I tried. He'd probably break out of my apartment and try to find Edward, like a Hoboken-based _Homeward Bound_." Esme pulls off the road at the sign for Killington. "Thanks so much for letting me spend the holidays with your family, Esme. This was going to be my first holidays alone, and I can't tell you how thankful I am..." I stop when I get a little choked up. Spending the holidays by myself didn't seem that terrible a few weeks ago, but I think I would have been harder than I expected. Dogs are great friends, but they're a little lacking in Christmas spirit.

"You're very welcome, honey. We're all happy to have you here."

Esme spots Rose waiting near the gondola terminal and drops me nearby. Of all the Cullens, Rose is the one I find most intimidating. At no point has she been unfriendly to me, but underneath that blond, Scandinavian friendliness, she's probably the most blunt, acerbic person I've ever met. It's amazing to me that Rose is the person Edward called at his lowest point, since I live in terror of saying or doing something to earn a rebuke from her.

On the way up the mountain in the gondola, I keep Rose busy by asking about her job and Emmett's job. Rose snorts and scoffs at Emmett taking the day off in the middle of the week to go skiing, but she explains that winter is a pretty quiet time for construction in Vermont, and his two project managers are used to holding down the fort since Emmett was in New Jersey for most of the past month. With the high school kids he coaches enjoying winter break, Emmett might as well "live it up while he still can," she says.

Edward and Emmett are waiting for us in the gondola terminal at the top of the mountain. Emmett sweeps Rose up in a big kiss as best he can around her giant belly, and Edward rolls his eyes at them, making me smile. Edward and I head into the Peak Lodge with Emmett and Rose trailing behind us. Edward points out Alice holding a table in front of a giant wall of windows, then leads the way over to the counter.

Everyone's seated by the time I get to the table, and I'm about to sit at the last available seat when Edward stands up and insists I take his seat next to the window. It seems like much ado about nothing, but once I'm sitting, the view out the windows is incredible. Jasper, who's sitting next to me, points out the town of Woodstock and the area where the Cullens live, and Edward points out the ridge we climbed over the weekend. It seems pathetically small from 4,000 feet up.

"So, Bella, I hear you want to learn how to ski," Emmett yells across the table in his big booming voice.

"What? No. Who said that? No. No." They're all laughing at me, but my heart is beating twice as fast as it was a minute ago.

"Don't worry, I'm just kidding. You're too much fun to tease. Alice said we'd have more luck convincing you to ride a camel down the mountain."

"Someone tried to teach me once, and I wasn't terrible on the bunny slope, all things considered. I mean, I didn't fall down and injure myself the moment I put on the skis. But then he wanted to take me up to a more challenging hill – probably a speed bump compared to the routes you guys are skiing – and it turns out I don't have the balance and agility required to dismount a ski lift. I fell and banged up my leg and almost got run over by the next people off the lift and that was the end of that."

"He sounds like a crappy teacher," Edward grouses from his end of the table.

"It wasn't Jake's fault. I've been falling down and falling over and falling off things all my life. I've fallen off of sidewalks and ballet flats and treadmills. When Jake proposed, it was at the end of a long day of hiking in Olympic National Park. We were standing at a viewpoint, on a cliff a couple hundred feet high, and when we kissed I lost my footing. If it hadn't been for the railing and Jake's quick reflexes, I might have really done some damage."

"Jake was your ex?" Rose asks.

"Yeah."

"Why did he keep taking you to the top of mountains?" Edward grumbles.

"I liked it. I probably sound like an invalid to you guys, but as long as I can stay upright, I love exploring. Samson and I visited a whole bunch of national parks when we drove across the country. I'm slow and cautious, but I still like doing it."

"You and Jake were engaged?" Rose asks.

"Rose, leave her be. She doesn't have to drag out all her dirty laundry for all of us," Alice says.

"I don't mind, Alice. We were engaged, for a couple years. When people asked why we were taking so long, I told them we were too young to get married. But we were always more friends than anything else – at least, I always felt that way. I romanticized it, told myself that the best marriages always start with friendship, but the truth is our relationship didn't really grow much beyond that. I don't think Jake felt the same, though. I think he believed we were soul mates. I still feel badly about that."

"It sounds like you did the right thing by ending it," Rose says. "It sounds like you wanted different things."

"I didn't think so, until after my dad died. That's how Jake and I started, actually. We had been friends since high school, he was the son of my dad's best friend. He always flirted with me, but nothing happened until my senior year of college. Once I decided to go back to the Olympic peninsula, being with Jake seemed to make a lot of sense. I mean, here's this guy who lives right down the road from me, and he adores me, and he's kind and funny and hardworking. There aren't that many people who would want to live in tiny, rainy Forks, Washington. Being with Jake was like winning the boyfriend lottery.

"When my dad died, I didn't feel tied to anything anymore. I didn't care if I stayed in Forks. And once that wasn't a factor, it didn't seem like Jake and I had all that much in common. Jake wanted to spend the rest of his life there, and I didn't. Jake couldn't wait to have a whole bunch of kids, and I was ambivalent. Jake tried to convince me to hold on to the ring, to come back to him if New York didn't work out. He said I was just grieving my dad, that I was running away instead of dealing with it. Which probably was true, but it wasn't clouding my feelings about Jake. It seemed crueler to leave him there hoping for me to come back than to end it."

"Are you guys still in touch?" Emmett asks.

"We're still friends on Facebook, if reading someone's statuses makes you their friend. We texted when I was moving because he was worried about Samson and I travelling alone, but the texts dried up after I got to New York."

"Do you ever think about going back to Forks, if you don't find a job here?" Edward asks, and I purposely ignore the subtext behind his question.

"Not permanently. I still own my dad's house, and I'll have to figure out what to do with it eventually. I wouldn't mind visiting from time to time, because I feel closer to my dad there. But without my dad, it doesn't feel like my home anymore."

"Does New York feel like home?" Rose asks.

"No, not really. It's not as cold and inhospitable a place as people seem to think it is, and there are lots of really cool things in New York that you can't find anywhere else in the country, but it wouldn't have any draw for me if it weren't home to the publishing industry. But I live like an old lady now; my schedule is dictated by when Samson needs a walk. I wonder sometimes what it would have been like to have moved out here when I was 22."

"You're only 27, Bella," Alice says.

"I know, but you change so much in your mid-20s. I'm not saying I would have been hanging out in clubs or playing Frisbee soccer in Central Park five years ago, but I might have been more adventurous."

"Well, I think you're still plenty adventurous," Jasper says. "It takes a fair amount of mettle to spend a week with this family."

After everyone finishes eating, Rose and I head back to the gondola to ride down the mountain. While Rose heads back to work, I wait for Alice to finish one last run. After we stow her skis and gear in Emmett's giant Jeep, we spend an hour at the snow tubing park. Alice is the perfect companion, not at all embarrassed that we are the only adults there without children, and as long as my butt's touching the ground, I don't have to worry about falling over.

After we take a break for hot chocolate in the lodge, we head to the Beast Coaster, an alpine slide you ride in a small blue cart. It's a pretty cool ride, and by cool I mean freaking freezing. The view is cool too, but an open air alpine slide seems like a weird winter activity. Anyway, when I get to the end of the slide, Alice, who took the cart ahead of me, is waiting on the platform cheering.

As I'm climbing out of the cart, I hear Alice say "watch out," but before I can figure out what she's talking about, I hear a THWACK and my cart jerks forward. My right foot catches in the handhold at the front of the cart, and then I fall sideways back into the cart. I sit there for a moment, stunned, until I realize my ankle is throbbing somewhere underneath me and Alice is yelling at someone.

A guy in a Killington jacket and hat appears above me, and he and Alice help me up and out of the cart. Alice returns to yelling at a kid, apparently the driver of the cart behind me who came in way, way too fast, and the resort employee helps me over to a bench. He asks me a bunch of questions and feels around my right ankle, which is obviously messed up. The guy uses a radio to call someone from the resort's clinic, and I turn my attention back to Alice, who is now yelling at an adult, apparently the father of the boy who crashed into me.

The father walks his kid over to me and tells him to apologize to me, which he does, while Alice yells about them being liable for my injuries. On top of my swollen, throbbing ankle, the yelling is giving me a headache, so I have to interrupt her and ask her to stop. She forces the father to hand over his phone and calls herself. The father and son sit next to me on the bench while the resort guy heads one way, talking on his radio, and Alice heads the other way, calling someone on her phone. After a few minutes of blessed silence, she wanders back and sits down with a huff and a glare at the father and son.

"I couldn't reach Jasper or Emmett but I talked to Edward and my dad. Edward's going to drive you to my dad's office and I'll wait for Jasper and Emmett to finish."

"You should get your skis out of Emmett's car, you can probably get in a couple more runs before they close."

"Don't worry about me, Bella. I've got a bunch of ski resort employees to yell at, anyway."

As if on cue, a couple guys wearing Killington gear and carrying a portable stretcher appear on the platform. After they check me over, they offer to take me to the clinic, but Alice asks if they think it'll hurt for me to wait the half hour it will take to get to Dr. Cullen's office. They don't, especially since I'll have to go to Rutland anyway if I need x-rays.

Edward storms up while the guys from the clinic are assessing whether I can walk on my own, and when I wobble and groan, he picks me right up, like I'm a Christmas tree. I squeak in surprise, and I'm only glad I didn't make a louder embarrassing sound.

"Are you ready to go?" He asks while glaring at everyone on the platform in turn.

"Yeah, but you can't carry me all the way to the car, can you? These guys have a stretcher…"

"It's fine. Let's go."

And he does carry me all the way to the car, without stopping or getting tired or complaining. Even carrying me, Alice has to jog to keep up with him. I think she's more tired than he is when we get to the car. I try to convince her to take her skis, but she tells me to stop trying to deprive her of a "legitimate yelling opportunity."

Edward takes off like a bat out of hell, honking at pedestrians and screeching around corners.

"Edward, I'm not bleeding." He looks over at me quizzically.

"You can slow down. I'm not critical." He sighs but the tires don't squeal around the next corner.

Dr. Cullen's office is on the ground floor of a big old colonial house down the street from the regional hospital. The woman at the front desk sends Edward straight back to an exam room, follows us back, and orders Edward to give her a hug after he sets me down. Edward introduces us before Carlisle walks in.

Carlisle gingerly removes my boot and sock while I roll up the hem of my jeans. It looks to me like my ankle is at least twice its normal size, but Carlisle doesn't seem as alarmed as I do. Carlisle has me describe what happened while he feels around my foot, ankle and leg, and then asks Edward to help me down so I can try to walk. Edward holds on to my hand and my waist as I take a few limping steps, and sets me back on the exam table when Carlisle finishes.

"Okay, Bella, it looks like a pretty bad sprain, but I don't think it's anything worse than that. If you weren't living with me, I might send you off for an x-ray just to be safe. I don't think it's necessary, but we can certainly do an x-ray if it would make you feel better."

"No, um, I don't have health insurance, so if you don't think I need it, I would rather not."

"Well, we'll talk about that sometime when you aren't in pain. But I think it's fine to skip it. If at any point you find it impossible to put any pressure on that foot, I want you to tell me right away. It'll probably hurt more tomorrow than it does today, but as long as you can put a little weight on it, you're doing okay. You shouldn't walk on it too much over the next few days, but take a few steps periodically just to check it out. I'll bring home some crutches tonight so you won't be dependent on Edward to get anywhere. I don't think you'll need anything other than Advil, but if the pain gets to be too much, let me know.

"The protocol is rest, ice, elevation. Unless you're moving around, your foot should be higher than your torso for the next few days. We've got some ice packs at home, and Edward can show you what to do when you get there. What are your favorite foods?"

"Foods?"

"Yep."

"Uh, I like macaroni and cheese. Anything with carbs and cheese, really. Alone or together. Ice cream. Chocolate. Salmon. And green beans and broccoli, to counteract the ice cream and chocolate."

"Got it." He hands me a couple Advil from his cabinet and a cup of water. "You guys head home. You should start icing when you get there. I'll be home in a couple hours to make dinner."

"Don't we need to pick up Alice, Emmett and Jasper?" I ask.

"Mom's going to pick them up on her way back from Middlebury. She should be on her way soon."

Edward's quiet on the way home, so I let him brood in peace until he turns into the driveway.

"I'm sorry I ruined your day, Edward." He gives me a tiny little smile.

"You didn't ruin my day, Bella. That brat in the cart behind you ruined my day. I'm just glad I could help."

"I am too. I appreciate it."

At home, Edward settles me onto the couch with my foot on a pile of pillows before taking the dogs out for a walk. I must fall asleep, because the next thing I know, the sun is down, the fire is going, and Edward is sitting by my feet, holding an ice pack to my ankle while he reads something on his iPad. He looks up when I shift around and groan. My whole body hurts.

"How are you doing?" Edward asks.

"My whole body hurts."

"Yeah, it sounds like you hit that cart pretty hard. You're probably developing a whole bunch of bruises."

"Great."

"Dad's making dinner – salmon and green beans and mac and cheese. Advil and chocolate ice cream for dessert." He smiles at me.

"Your dad's so sweet."

"Do you want something to drink? It's been a while since that Dixie cup of water in Dad's office."

"Um, I do, but I, uh, need to go to the bathroom."

It's hard to tell in the muted light, but I think Edward blushes.

"Well, uh, I can help you with that. I think. I mean, if you want. I won't look, I promise."

Despite the pain, I can't help but smile at him. He's so cute when he's embarrassed.

"Is Alice home?"

"She's taking a shower. My mom's here, but she can't lift you."

"I don't think I need to be carried around all the time, as much as I enjoy it. I can hobble and hop. I just need a spotter, in case I lose my balance."

Edward carries me to the bathroom, and his mom stays with me while I pee. And it's a good thing she does, because it is not easy to remove skinny jeans when you're standing on one leg like a flamingo. Then Edward carries me upstairs, and Esme helps me change into my pajamas. Then Edward carries me back to the couch and brings me some tea with a bendy straw. I feel like the Queen of Sheba.

To ensure my foot stays elevated, Esme decrees that I can eat dinner on the couch, and so I don't have to eat alone, everyone joins me. After dinner, they give me the remote, but Edward, Jasper and Carlisle all make noise when I flip past _Die Hard_ in the channel guide, so I put it on.

After the movie, ice cream, another assisted trip to the bathroom, and two more rounds with the ice pack, Edward carries me upstairs. I get ready for bed while he takes the dogs out. He sticks his head back in when they return, but I've managed to shimmy into bed on my own without breaking anything. He leaves Advil and a bottle of water on my nightstand.

"Thanks, Edward. You'd make a fantastic nurse, you know."

"I think I've been more pack mule than nurse today, but I guess it's always good to have something to fall back on. I'll leave the bathroom door on my side open, so if you need anything, just shout. Anytime. Goodnight, Bella."

* * *

 _Next time: Bella and Edward spend the day in bed. (NOT LIKE THAT! At least not tomorrow...)_


	11. December 30th

_Everyone was real chatty this chapter, so let's get to it. Love you all, see you soon._

* * *

I wake up in the middle of the night and it feels like my foot is trying to forcibly remove itself from the rest of my body. After swallowing a few Advil, I decide to hobble to the bathroom to kill time until it kicks in. Through Edward's open bathroom door, I see him sitting in a pool of light at his desk, tapping away at his laptop. I don't want to disturb him if the creative juices are flowing, so I close his door quietly before banging around the bathroom on my crutches. I've just thrown myself back on my bed like a beached whale when I hear a door open behind me and the rap of knuckles on wood.

"How are you feeling?" Edward asks.

"Fantastic," I grumble into the comforter and roll over so at least Edward isn't talking to my ass. He's wearing sweatpants again, and it would be a shame to miss out on that.

"Have you taken more Advil?"

"Yep."

"How about I get the ice pack? Or some ice cream?"

"Yes, please. Thank you."

While Edward's downstairs I maneuver under the covers and stick a pillow under my foot. When he returns, Edward does this complicated origami with a towel and ice pack that keeps the ice pack attached to me without it touching my skin. He settles on to the bed next to me, opens up the ice cream carton he brought, and hands me a spoon.

"Do you always write at night?" I ask him.

"Not exclusively, but mostly. I like the night, after everyone's gone to bed. It feels like it's just me and the story, like I'm working on a secret. I'm downright nocturnal when I'm alone, but it can be isolating. After a while I start to feel like it really is just me and the story, like we're the only things that exist. And Alice, of course."

When he finishes talking, I'm staring at him and trying to hold back laughter. "What are you smiling at?"

"You're so talkative now. Two weeks ago you would have grunted and said 'yeah.'"

"I didn't know you very well two weeks ago."

"It's true, I was super mysterious. Kind of grumpy and standoffish."

"How long were you awake before you went to the bathroom?"

"Changing the subject, hunh? Uh, just a few minutes. Why?"

"You were moaning in your sleep."

"Ugh. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It didn't bother me. I mean, it bothered me, but not in any way that requires an apology. I'll talk to my dad in the morning. He should have given you something stronger for the pain."

"It's not just my ankle." I pull up the leg of my pajamas so Edward can see the mottled green bruises blooming on my leg. "I think the bruises hurt more than my ankle at the moment, and there's nothing he can do about those."

"Well, he can give you something stronger than Advil. Vermont is in the middle of this terrible heroin epidemic that started with abuse of prescription painkillers, and it's made him very cautious about prescribing them. Maybe too cautious, at least in your case."

"I'm not such a huge fan of painkillers myself. I was in a car accident about ten years ago and I got pretty banged up. I was taking OxyContin for weeks, and I was dizzy and nauseous the whole time. Well, more dizzy than usual, I couldn't walk a straight line in bare feet."

"Was Jake involved in this accident?" He spits out Jake's name like he's talking about Voldemort.

"Jake's a good guy, Edward. And no, he wasn't involved. One of my classmates lost control of his car on some ice and I got pinned between his car and mine. I broke my arm, dislocated my shoulder, and fractured my collarbone."

"Sounds like a nasty accident."

"It could have been worse. It was a crowded high school parking lot filled with kids and I was the only person who was really injured. Anyway, I'm tougher than I look, Edward. I can deal with pain. But I am sorry you have to be on the other side of a thin wall while I'm dealing with it. Hey, can I ask you a question?"

"Shoot."

"Your mom's probably redone this place once or twice, right?"

Edward snorts. "Uh, four times, that I can remember."

"How come she hasn't done anything about the way sound carries?"

"If you ask her, she'll say it's because you can't fix it without taking the whole building down to the studs, which they've only done once, when they first bought it. But Emmett and I decided a long time ago that she likes the fact that no one can keep a secret in this house. Though I wonder if she still feels that way now that she's sharing a wall with her adult daughter and her boyfriend."

"Oh my God, can they hear each other?"

"Alice's bedroom shares a wall with the closet in Mom and Dad's room, but her bathroom is right behind their bed."

"Oh my God."

"No one's ever talked about it, but there were a few times when we were teenagers when Alice slept on the couch, and she'd never tell us why, but she was always really grumpy about it."

"Oh my God. I had to get rid of my dad's sex toys and porn after he died, and it was deeply traumatizing. When I found it in his nightstand, I thought about hiring someone to carry it into the back yard and set it on fire."

"What did you do with his house? Is it just sitting empty?"

"No, I had a couple friends from high school who were living with their parents to save money for their wedding and their own place, so I offered the house to them. They're paying the utilities and doing any maintenance that needs done, so it's more expensive for them, but they jumped at the opportunity."

"Couldn't you make more renting it out?"

I shrug. "Mo' money, mo' problems. I know they're taking good care of the place. I couldn't deal with renting the house to strangers so soon after my dad died."

"That's nice of you." I shrug and yawn. And then a chill goes through me and I start shivering. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm just cold. I've got an ice pack on my foot and I've been eating ice cream. No big deal."

Edward sets the empty ice cream carton aside and tucks the comforter in around me. Then he scoots right next to me and puts his arms around me, and I find myself pressed up his lovely chest. It smells like fir trees and fabric softener.

The next time I open my eyes, Edward is sleeping next to me. My ankle is throbbing, but I quickly realize that what woke me up is a tiny yapping dog on the floor. Edward looks too pretty to disturb, so I consider attempting the stairs on my crutches as I remove the ice pack and untangle myself from the blankets. Of course, I knock over the crutches as soon as I touch them, and Edward jerks awake.

"Mmmm…what's going on?"

"I think Alice wants to go out. I was trying to avoid waking you, but I'm a klutz."

He looks between me and the crutches, and narrows his eyes at me. "You were going to go down the stairs on your crutches? Alone?"

"I was thinking about it."

He rubs his eyes and gets out of bed. "Maybe I've been too hard on Jake," he mumbles as he picks up Alice. He points at me from the door. "Stay." Then he points at Samson, lying on his bed on the floor. "Come."

I take another handful of Advil and burrow back into bed. It feels like my eyes are only closed a few minutes, but the next time I wake up, the sun is up and Carlisle's knocking on my bedroom door. He checks me over, has me stumble around the room a little bit, and announces that I'm doing about as well as he'd expect.

I'm almost back asleep when Alice shows up to offer me Jasper's chocolate chip pancakes, and while she goes downstairs to get them, I wonder how much weight I'm going to put on while Cullens are carrying me around and bringing me chocolate and walking my dog. But that doesn't stop me from gobbling up the pancakes. Alice keeps me company while I eat, telling me about the plans they're developing with Esme and what will be happening at the restaurant on New Year's Eve. Alice pushes me hard to join them for New Year's, but unless my ankle magically heals in the next 36 hours, I just don't see how it's possible.

Alice eventually leaves to get ready to go to the restaurant, and Samson returns to my room from whichever ambulatory Cullen he's befriended. The house is quiet and my leg hurts, so I take more Advil and go back to sleep.

The next time I wake up, Edward has stuck his head through the bathroom door, and he's whispering angrily at the floor.

"What'd Samson do?" I ask blearily.

"I was trying to get him to go for a walk without waking you, but he won't leave his bed."

"I think he's been on, like, three walks already today."

"Sorry I woke you."

"Nah, I should get up anyway. Busy day of ice and elevation to get to. All I've been doing is resting."

"Do you want me to get your ice pack?"

"If you haven't thrown your back out yet, I'd really love a change of scenery."

"I'm just glad you asked, instead of throwing yourself down the stairs."

"Sooner or later I'll have to figure out stairs. You can't carry me around all the time."

"False. Are you ready to go?"

"I need a minute in the bathroom first."

When I'm done, Edward's waiting with his laptop.

"So, um, I have this bruise on my back." I turn around and lift up my sweatshirt to show Edward the bruise spread diagonally across my back. He makes an appropriately disgusted noise. "If we could avoid bumping that, I'd be very appreciative."

"Why don't we try a new position?" Yes, please.

"What do you have in mind?"

"Piggy back?" Edward turns around and crouches down. "Come on, I got you."

Climbing on Edward's back is sort of like climbing a tree – an activity I've never been very good at – but I do feel more secure going down stairs knowing Edward can see his feet. He deposits me on the couch and then wanders around the house, picking up his laptop, my crutches, two bottles of water, pillows and blankets, and an ice pack. He sets up my ice pack and then settles on the couch next to my head.

"Are you going to do some writing?"

"Nope. My agent sent a few things for me to watch – a movie and a bunch of episodes of TV from a writer/director that HBO likes. Can I interest you in watching them?"

"You have an agent?"

"Kind of. His firm has a relationship with Paradigm. He's not really my agent until I agree to sell the books, but he's working hard to make sure it happens."

"With HBO?"

"They're the leading candidates, I guess. Paul – the agent – wanted to do movies initially, but I just couldn't see these books drawing the kind of audience that would motivate a studio to release a whole series. My books are about families, not street racing, or Transformers, or vampires, or teenagers in a post-apocalyptic wasteland. When I told various studio execs and movie producers that I couldn't see the books succeeding as a series, they all proposed something that sounded suspiciously like _Forrest Gump_ , with my characters interacting with CGI versions of historical figures. It didn't inspire a lot of confidence. So now Paul's pushing a series, and HBO's the leading contender. Well, they're the network pushing hardest to make it happen."

"Are they gonna add dragons?"

"No, they haven't suggested anything supernatural. Paul said they're going to add sex, which I'm not totally opposed to. I mean, sex is a natural part of life. You don't have families without sex. The books aren't PG-rated because I'm a prude, they're PG-rated because one good love scene moves your book out of the fiction category and into the romance category."

"I wouldn't be opposed to adding sex, I'd just be wary about what that means for casting."

"What do you mean?"

"You write about real people, Edward. There are plenty of actors in Hollywood who look like real men, and still have sex on screen. You could get Steve Buscemi to play Anthony, and Paul Giamatti to play Oliver, and Jonah Hill to play Sam, and most people in Hollywood would just invent 24-year-old love interests for them to sleep with. What about the women in the books? A lot of them are older, or plain-looking, or overweight. Are they going to be sexless, or are they going to be played by actresses in frumpy clothes and bad makeup, who still look fantastic naked?"

"Sex on TV is aspirational, though. No one wants to see real people have sex."

"Sex on TV is aspirational for men. I don't want to sleep with Steve Buscemi or Paul Giamatti, but that didn't stop _Boardwalk Empire_ or _John Adams_. I don't want to sleep with Jonah Hill. Or Seth Rogen. Or Bill Murray. Or Alec Baldwin. Or Adam Sandler. Or James Gandolfini. Or—"

"Okay, I get it. But how do I stop that from happening? Once I sell the books, casting is up to the network and the producers. They won't have any obligation to run things past me."

"Well, if they were my books, I would try to get a woman showrunner. At the very least, I would insist on at least one female producer. I'm not saying men don't know how to write and cast realistic female characters, but in Hollywood, there are a lot more men who can't than men who can. The reason people love your books is because they care so much about the characters, Edward. I know you only have so much control, but if you want people to love the series as much as they love the books, you have to find someone who respects the characters – _all_ the characters – as much as you do. As a fan, there's nothing more disappointing than seeing a character you loved on paper turn into a character you hate on screen. And your characters go through such a complex time in American history. It's incredibly important to find someone who understands the civil rights movement, and the Vietnam War, and the women's movement-"

"I'm almost afraid to watch these with you now. I don't think this guy is going to pass muster."

"If I only watched things that met my lofty ideals, I'd never watch anything. I enjoy Game of Thrones, even with the gratuitous sex and naked women. Hey, did you see the girl with the boobs in _True Detective_ , the girl who took her top off every time she appeared on screen? Those were some amaaaazing breasts. If you're going to let any of your characters be turned into one-dimensional stereotypes, make sure they get the girl with the gravity-defying tits."

Edward's silent, so I lift my head off the pillow in order to see his face. He's looking at me with a smirk on his face. "Did I go too far?"

"I believe you were making a point, but I have no idea what it is. Do you want to watch _True Detective_?"

"Do _you_?"

"Maybe later. When I'm alone."

The first thing we watch is pretty good. It's an episode of a network drama that ran for a few years. I didn't watch it regularly, but I know enough about it to follow along. HBO's writer/director guy was on the writing staff and credited with writing the episode. It's funny in a benign sort of way, but given what (little) I know about TV production, it's hard for me to tell how much of what I like is attributable to the writer.

When the show is over, Edward's face is all screwed up in a scowl.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "Are you hungry? Want some lunch?"

Edward offers to make tomato soup and grilled cheese for lunch, and I hobble over to the kitchen island to bug him while he cooks.

"So what's up? Did I bum you out talking about another lady's boobs?"

He smiles at me. "That will never bum me out. I've just been thinking about how hard it's going to be to make something that you'll love."

"Me?! I'm just one person, Edward. I'm the stray your sister picked up in the city and brought home with her. You asked for my opinion, so I gave it to you, but you are literally the only person in the world asking me my opinion. About anything."

"Your opinion is important to me because you're important to me. Something tells me that you're going to think less of me if one of my characters is remembered as 'the girl with the boobs.' But beyond that, you're smart and well-read and you love my books. You're exactly who I want to please. I don't think I know enough about the television industry to ensure fans like you are happy."

"Have you talked to any other authors whose books were turned into movies or TV shows?"

"Not since I started thinking about doing it. Do you think it would help?"

"It couldn't hurt, especially if you talk to authors behind movies or TV shows you really enjoyed. Paradigm should be able to help set it up, or this Paul guy."

"I wish you were my agent."

"You don't have to pay me to get my opinion, Edward. You should know by now that I'm quite happy to give my opinion away for free. While I'm at it, here's another one for you: I appreciate how much you want to make your readers happy, I really do. But at the end of the day, loving your books is just a small part of my life. Writing them is a really, really big part of yours. Fifteen or twenty years from now, when the books and TV show are done, what matters most is that you're happy, and proud of what you produced."

"What would make me happy is knowing that the fans loved it."

"But fans are unpredictable, and tastes change, and the TV show or movie will bring you a whole bunch of new fans and God only knows what they'll want. If I were you, I wouldn't spend energy chasing something so amorphous. You don't spend time thinking about what fans want when you're writing, do you?"

"Not at all. I wouldn't even know where to begin. Post a survey on Twitter?"

"So don't use criteria for the TV show that you wouldn't use for your novels. Think about what matters most to you. Some folks will have a better handle on the history, some will be better at the family relationships. Some will make the material more accessible, some will be more creative. Think about non-readers – what do you want them to take from the show? It's true that I would be angry if someone turned Amelia into 'the girl with the boobs,' but it wouldn't make me love the books any less. Someone who hasn't read the books will interpret everything differently."

Edward puts his head down on the marble countertop and starts banging his head gently. "Is this supposed to help me make a decision?"

"Oh, is that what I was supposed to be doing? I'm just suggesting things to think about, Edward. You can forget everything I've said and sell the movie rights to Michael Bay if you want to. I'm just a girl with an opinion."

"You're not just an anything, Bella." He sighs. "Are you done eating?"

"Yep. Thank you. Do you want to watch more?"

"No, but I will."

Edward takes the dogs out for a short walk while I try to go to the bathroom without mortally wounding myself. The next thing we watch is a movie written by HBO Guy, a dramedy about a family at Christmas that Edward calls "dark comedy," but I just find to be snide and sad. Then Edward puts on a pilot HBO Guy wrote and directed, which I have no opinion of because I fall asleep almost as soon as it begins.

I wake up to the sound of a door slamming. "Where are you, Miss Bella?" I hear from the front hallway.

I'm confused, and frankly a little scared, but Edward, who's waking up on the other end of the couch, doesn't seem as discombobulated as I am. "Rose?" he calls out.

She appears above the couch and smiles down at us. "Well, isn't this cozy. Nap buddies?"

"What's up, Rose?" Edward asks. Rose pulls an iPad out of her purse and presents it with a flourish.

"Bella here is my newest Facebook friend."

"Congratulations."

"And it turns out Jacob, her ex, is hotter than any human being not named Hemsworth." Edward throws himself back down on his pillows with a groan and pulls his blanket over his head.

"That's…a bit of an exaggeration, especially coming from someone who married into a family of Hilfiger models. Jake's attractive, but—"

"HA! Jake could easily be in an Abercrombie ad." Edward makes little grumbly noises under his blanket as Rose walks around the couch. I barely manage to move my feet out of the way before she sits down on the couch. I gasp, just a little, when my ankle smarts, and Edward pulls his blanket away.

"Rose, you and your giant Scandinavian baby almost sat on Bella's sprained ankle," Edward says as he gets up and walks away.

"Oh God, Bella, I'm sorry. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. My ankle just protested at being moved so quickly. No harm done."

"I'm not used to taking up so much space. I'm constantly knocking things over."

"I've never been pregnant, but I know the feeling. How was your day, Rose?"

She waves her hand. "My day was excellent because I discovered these pictures of your ex."

As she turns on her iPad and opens the Facebook app, Edward returns with a cold ice pack and some bottles of water. I take the Advil he hands me and sit up so he has enough room to wrap up my ankle.

"I mean, seriously, Bella," Rose says as shows me a picture of Jake and me at the beach. Jake's got his wetsuit down around his waist and I'm wearing my usual Forks beach attire, jeans and a sweater. "How do you talk about that guy without mentioning you could break rocks on his abs?" Rose hands her iPad to Edward.

"Thanks, Rose, I just love looking at hot guys. Especially hot guys Bella almost married." Rose rolls her eyes and snatches her iPad back from Edward.

"Let me show you my favorite." She flips through my photo album until she gets to a picture of Jake rockclimbing.

"But he's fully clothed."

"But look at that butt, Bella. It's amazing." Rose tries to hand her iPad to Edward, but he rolls his eyes and pushes it away.

"You're married to my brother, Rose."

"Oh! Thanks for reminding me. Would you like to hear what Emmett said about Jake's butt?" Rose pulls her phone out of her purse. "Quote, 'daaaaaaaaaamn.' Unquote. Did I pronounce that right? There are one, two, three…ten A's."

"Sounds about right."

"Hey, do you know a girl named Leah?"

"Uh, Leah Clearwater?"

"Probably. How many Leah's can there be in a town of 10,000 people?"

"How do _you_ know Leah?"

"They're dating."

"WHAT? NO THEY'RE NOT! Jake hates Leah. He HAAAATES her. Hates with ten A's. He would never—" Rose shows me a picture of Jake and Leah in a booth at Blakeslee's Bar. He's got his arm around her and they're both smiling. "Maybe they're just friends…" I scroll down to the comments and see one from Seth, Leah's brother: "I'm never DDing for you guys again. I can't believe you made out in my back seat."

"Wow."

"Are you okay?" Rose asks. "If I had known what a big shock this would be, I would have mentioned it more…delicately."

Edward scoffs. "You don't have a delicate setting, Rose."

"It's shocking, but only because it's Leah. I was surprised he stayed single as long as he did. I figured the single girls of Forks threw a party the day I left town."

"Now that I've seen Jake, I bet they did. Want me to see if I can find evidence of it on Facebook?"

"No, it's okay. Leave it be. I'm happy for him."

"Okay, but I have an idea. Let's take a picture of you in between Emmett and Edward and post it on Facebook."

"In my discolored UW sweatshirt with second day hair? That's sure to impress everyone. Should we include my crutches, or no?"

"Well, take a shower and put on a nice shirt. A nice, tight, low-cut shirt."

"A, I don't think I own the kind of shirt you have in mind."

"Really? I've got lots. I'll go get you one. I know you're hiding a great rack under those turtlenecks and sweatshirts."

"B, I don't want to play games with Jake. He doesn't deserve it. C, I don't think it's a good idea for me to shower on one leg, and I can't get in and out of a bathtub myself with one foot out of commission."

"You want me to help you?"

"Rose, you're seven months pregnant. Can you even lift yourself out of a bathtub?"

"Edward can help you." Rose hits Edward on his knee and he scowls at her. "He'll close his eyes."

Edward sighs. "I could, I mean, I would. Close my eyes. If you want me to help. I promise not to look. If you want." Edward's ears turn red when he's embarrassed. It's adorable.

"Calm down, everyone. I'll ask Alice to help me tomorrow morning."

"YES. That's even better. A picture of you, Emmett and Edward on New Year's Eve. Jake will spend New Year's Eve wondering which one of them you're sleeping with."

"I'm not doing that to him."

"When are you going home, Rose?" Edward asks.

"Never. Carlisle texted Emmett and said he's bringing home pizza. You know Emmett's Rule 7."

"What's Emmett's Rule 7?"

"Pizza is always a good idea," Rose and Edward say in unison.

"How many rules are there?"

"As many as he wants whenever you ask him," Rose says.

"What's Rule 1?" I ask.

"Fight the patriarchy," Rose and Edward say in unison. I laugh so hard I feel it in my ankle.

"How did Emmett become such a feminist?"

The front door slams, and Emmett's booming voice calls out, "Where's the pizza?"

"I'll tell you another time," Rose tells me.

Edward takes the dogs out while Emmett and Rose peruse Jake's photos. Emmett asks me lots of questions about Jake's workout regimen, his "quads" and "delts," but Jake's only got one organ I know how to operate, and there aren't any pictures of it on Facebook. Carlisle comes home with three large pizzas and a Greek salad, which seems like a lot of food for six people, but by the time Emmett and Rose leave, all the food is gone. Someone should really study Emmett's metabolism.

After Emmett and Rose leave, Esme starts to look for something to watch on TV, but I'm wiped out. I just want to go to bed and read for a little while. Edward offers to take me upstairs, which is the first thing I've heard him say in hours. He arranges my foot on a pillow so it's elevated and tucks me into bed, but I stop him before he leaves.

"What's up, Edward? Did I bum you out with all my opinions about your TV show?"

Edward sighs and sits on the edge of my bed. "How do you really feel about Jake dating again?"

"Honestly? It's a huge relief. As long as he was alone, I felt like I was still kind of responsible for his happiness. His unhappiness, really. And the only way I knew to make him happy was to make myself unhappy. If he's happy without me, I don't have to feel guilty anymore."

"Even if it's with…Laura?"

"Leah. I barely know her. The only thing I know about her is that Jake hated her. If that's changed, good for them."

Edward looks at me for a few moments, and I decide to go out on a limb. "You shouldn't be jealous of Jake, Edward."

He scoffs and rolls his eyes, but a streak of pink appears from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. "I'm not jealous." He stares down at the bed.

"Well, that's good. It would be silly to be jealous of a guy whose heart I broke when I moved to the opposite side of the country. Especially if the jealous person is an extraordinarily talented writer who looks like a Hilfiger model and has been very kind to me."

Edward smirks but doesn't look at me. "When he's not making you cry, you mean?"

I wave him off. "Eh. You made me cry once, and you weren't trying to. And you've more than made up for it."

He finally looks up at me. "I guess you're right, that would be silly."

"Good, I'm glad we agree." I pull my blankets up. "Good night, Edward."

"Good night, Bella."


	12. December 31st

_Greetings from New Jersey, where a mall Easter Bunny recently got into a fight with a parent. It's true, you can google it. #Jersey._

 _I'm sick again, or still, depending on who you ask. The bad news is I'll probably lose my job. The good news is I'll probably have more time for writing._

 _Last time around: Edward was being stupid about Jake, and Bella told him so. So what's it gonna take to make him own up to his feelings?_

* * *

I wake up at 7 am, and I'm downright giddy to realize I've slept for almost eleven straight hours. My foot hurts, but the throbbing pain from yesterday has settled into a dull ache that seems manageable in comparison. I was dead to the world, so I can't say for sure, but judging by his enthusiasm for getting up, it seems like Samson has been stuck up here with me for eleven hours as well, so I've got to figure out a way to take him out.

After a quick trip to the bathroom, I head for the stairs. Samson goes barreling down to the landing, but stops when he realizes I'm not with him. I study the stairs like they're a math problem. I don't feel steady enough on the crutches alone. Could I do it with one crutch and a hand on the railing? Would it be ridiculous to scoot down the stairs on my butt?

As I'm thinking, Edward's bedroom door opens and he comes out carrying Alice. He stops across from me at the top of the stairs and looks between me and the stairs.

"What's going on?"

"Not much." Samson whines, so I don't think he agrees.

"Heading downstairs?"

"Maybe. Eventually."

Edward sighs. He puts down Alice, who runs downstairs in her off-kilter dachshund way, and climbs down the first step in front of me. He turns around and looks at me. "Want a ride?"

I hand Edward my crutches and wrap my arms and legs around him. "Thank you, Edward."

"You could have just knocked on my door, you know."

"I didn't want to wake you up, if you were up late writing." He sets me down in the foyer and hands me my crutches.

"Don't you think I would have woken up when you fell down the stairs and cracked your head open?"

"Sorry, dad."

Edward shivers. "Nope. Creepy."

Edward throws on his coat and boots to take the dogs out while I head into the kitchen, where Carlisle is mixing something.

"Can I help?" I ask, knowing full well that I will be turned down.

"Morning, Bella. No, I've got it all under control. I thought I'd make waffles this morning. How are you feeling?"

"A lot better than yesterday. I slept all the way through the night, and I'm in a lot less pain."

"Can I take a look?" Carlisle washes his hands while I prop my bum leg up on the chair next to me. He feels around my ankle and then asks me to limp around the room without my crutches.

"Looks pretty good, compared to a couple days ago. I'd like you to see an orthopedist, though, if you're willing. I've got a friend in town that I called yesterday, and he emailed this morning to let me know he'd be happy to squeeze you around lunchtime. He can fit you with a boot that will help you walk, if you want one. It will make your life a lot easier when you go home."

"Sure, if you think it's a good idea."

"What's a good idea?" Edward asks as he walks in with the dogs.

"I want Bella to see Dr. Klein while she's in town. He can fit her in around 12."

"Sounds good. I can drive her."

"How long are you guys planning on staying? We're delighted to have you, so don't think I'm trying to run you off. I'm just curious."

"Oh! That reminds me." I turn in my seat to face Edward, sitting next to me. "I got an email from Baldwin Books yesterday about interviewing for an internship. I told them I was out of town and wasn't sure when I'd be able to get back, and they said they weren't in a rush, but they'd like to see me within the next week or so. If you aren't ready to leave, I thought maybe I could take a bus down and back."

Edward scoffs. "Baldwin Books? What division?"

"I don't know."

"Would they pay you?"

"I don't know, Edward. Probably not."

"That's great, Bella," Carlisle interjects. "Good for you."

Edward grunts. "We can go back Monday or Tuesday."

"Well, we sure do love having everyone back together. I hope you'll come back soon. Both of you," Carlisle says as he slides a waffle in front of me.

"When's Alice moving out?"

"Don't be difficult, Edward."

"I'm just asking a question."

"Probably March, unless we have a lot of late snow and the ski season goes long."

"What a coincidence, I was thinking of coming for a visit in March." Carlisle sighs and rolls his eyes, and he looks just like a silver fox version of Edward. "I was! Isn't that when the baby is due?"

"You're a paradigm of maturity, Edward. Well, I hope you'll bring Bella with you, whenever you come."

"I appreciate the invitation, Carlisle, I really do. I don't want to be intrusive. That seems like time for family."

"Well, I'll leave the hard sell to Alice. Just know you'll always be welcome."

After Carlisle and Esme leave for work, Edward helps me upstairs so I can wait for Alice to get up and help me take a bath. He heads to bed for a few more hours of sleep, and I brush Samson so we can both look our best on New Year's Eve.

Alice is a little late getting out of bed, so instead of talking my ear off while I'm in the bath as she surely intended, Alice helps me in, disappears to get herself ready, and returns 45 minutes later to help me out. After threatening to kill me if I don't come to the restaurant tonight, and promising I'll have a chair to sit in, Alice and Jasper head to work, and I get to work drying my hair like a grown-up, with the brush and product and everything. When I hear Edward messing around in the bathroom, I head to the window seat at the top of the stairs and play Trivial Pursuit on my phone while I wait for my chariot to arrive.

"You know, my dad means it when he says you're welcome here," Edward says once we're on the road to Rutland. "We've had houseguests everyone couldn't wait to get rid of before. No one feels that way about you."

"It's not that I don't believe him. Everyone's been so welcoming to me. But you've really been stuck with me, haven't you? I mean, Alice is the one who invited me, and I barely see her. I don't blame her for that – they're so busy with the restaurant. But you don't have much of a choice. Neither do your parents. I'm just always there. Especially now," I say as I gesture to my foot.

"If you don't think I could find a way to avoid you if I wanted to, you don't know me very well."

"I think you are much nicer and kinder than _you_ think you are, Edward."

"I think you underestimate how much more I like you than the average human being, Bella."

"Aw, I would take that as a compliment if I didn't know how much you think you hate everyone in the world. Why don't we leave it up to Rose? It seems like delivering a baby should earn you the right of first refusal when it comes to houseguests."

Dr. Klein is second only to Carlisle in his mastery of the charming country doctor stereotype. He does some different tests from Carlisle, but reaches the same conclusion. He fits me with a walking boot that look sort of like it came from the "Robocop" prop shop and a couple liners and insoles, and he tells me not to wear it for longer than a few hours at a time for the first week. He also gives me a booklet describing exercises I should do over the next couple months, as a free gift with my $698 bill, and encourages me to see a physical therapist. Despite the hit to my savings account, I'm delighted to have the boot and be somewhat mobile.

I'm starving by the time we're done, but Edward says he has something in mind for lunch that he thinks I'll really like. When we're about halfway home, Edward pulls off the main highway. After another five minutes on a winding country road, Edward pulls off at a sign for Firefly Farms.

"This place specializes in two of your favorite foods – cheese and chocolate. They also make their own maple syrup, and maple syrup candy, if you're into that."

"Are we going to eat cheese and chocolate for lunch? Not that I'm not down with that – because I am – but I'm starting to worry about whether I'll fit back in the car when this trip is over."

Edward pulls into a parking space and pulls off his sunglasses to ensure I can see when he gives me the side-eye. "I've lifted Christmas trees heavier than you."

I can't help but laugh at that. "You've got a real gift with the compliments, Edward. What else am I lighter than? A tractor? That cow over there? Rose and her giant baby?"

Edward screws up his face. "What should I have compared you to instead?"

"A feather. A fluffy pancake. Air."

"Anyway, they've got a great little cafe here, only open at lunch. Pretty casual, but most of the food comes from the farm. It's Jasper's favorite lunch place."

Edward and I get a couple of fantastic burgers for lunch, and then I feel bad when we walk past the cow paddocks for eating one of their buddies. I assuage my guilt by buying all the chocolate and cheese I can carry.

"So, I've been thinking," Edward says, as we pull out of the parking lot. "I think you should move in with me when we get back to Hoboken."

Um, what? "You do?!"

"You live in a third-floor walk-up. Even with your boot, do you really think you can make it up and down the stairs three or four times a day when Samson wants to go out? How are you going to get groceries? What if there's a fire in the middle of the night?"

"What if zombies attack and I can't run? I'll turn into a zombie, I guess."

"I'm serious."

"I know you are, but—Edward, I can take care of myself. Both your dad and Dr. Klein said exercise is good for my ankle. It's Hoboken, I can get almost anything delivered."

"What are you going to do when your lease ends? How are you going to get to your interview?"

"Renew it, and Uber. Edward, what's the big deal?"

"I don't know why you're so resistant to this. I could make things so much easier for you. I've got a great guest room. I've got a maid that comes in once a week. The deli on the ground floor delivers in the building eighteen hours a day. I can help with Samson. And if you like it, you could move in when your lease ends. And then you could afford some fucking health insurance."

"I can afford health insurance."

"THEN GET SOME."

I take a deep breath before I continue, because it feels like this conversation is getting away from us. "Edward, I appreciate the offer. It's really incredibly generous. Kind of insulting at the same time, but that's kind of your thing. I just…don't think it's a good idea."

Edward doesn't say a word for the rest of the ride home, so I suspect he feels insulted, which would bother me more if I didn't feel insulted. When we get home, I head to the kitchen to get some ice for my foot, and Edward trails behind me.

"I'm going to take the dogs out for a walk. If you don't mind."

"Of course I don't mind. Thank you, Edward." He runs upstairs before I can even turn around to look at him, and I sit down to try to figure out what went wrong and how I can fix it. Do I have to move in with the guy in order to stay friends with him? I am very, very fond of Edward. I know that he only wants to help me. I just wish he could offer to help me without making me feel like a tiny piece of dirt.

Edward goes banging out the front door with the dogs, and a couple minutes later, I see him heading through the trees in the direction of the river. I grab an ice pack from the freezer, and slowly but triumphantly climb the stairs on my own. Take that, Edward. I need to talk to someone – someone who isn't related to Edward – so call Angela, one of the few friends in Forks I retained when I left Jake.

* * *

I wake up around six pm to the sound of voices in the hallway. After a long conversation with Angela and a nap, I know what happened this afternoon – at least on my end – and I know what I want to say to Edward. Angela agreed with me that Edward fights dirty, but she also reminded me that people learn to fight from their families, and Edward's family couldn't be more different from mine. Edward fights with words, I run and avoid. But the heart of the matter is that I have feelings for Edward, non-friendly feelings, and his offer to move me into his spare room like his little sister's unemployed loser friend felt like rejection. It isn't fair to blame Edward for hurting feelings he doesn't know exist.

Unfortunately, Edward isn't around. Samson and Alice are curled up on Samson's bed, so he came home at some point and let them in to my room, but there's no sign of him. When I get downstairs (slowly, triumphantly again), Esme and Carlisle are in Esme's office.

"Hey! You made it downstairs on your own! Your appointment with Dr. Klein must have gone well," Carlisle says when he sees me.

"He was great, set me up with my new bionic foot," I say, pointing to the boot. "Thanks so much for setting it up."

"We're planning on leaving for the restaurant around 7:30. Jasper said they'd have the banquet room set up for us and other family and friends by 8, so we should be able to eat as soon as we get there."

"Sure. Um, do you know where Edward went?"

"He's over at Rose and Emmett's. He's going to ride with them and meet us there." Great. The conversation I need to have with him will surely go well in a noisy restaurant on New Year's Eve.

I go to the kitchen to swap out my melted ice pack for a cold one. I've got my foot chilling on my designated foot pillow when Esme joins me on the couch.

"You know, Esme, I'm kind of wiped out. Do you think anyone would mind if I stayed home tonight?"

"I have it on pretty good authority that Alice would mind, seeing as how she texted me this afternoon and said she would disown me if you don't show up. You don't have to stay all night, though. We'll have at least three cars there, and at least three sober people. Carlisle isn't much of a night owl, and Rose tires out pretty fast these days. When you get tired, just let us know and someone will bring you home."

Esme tells me I don't need to dress up any more than I did when we last ate at Jasper's restaurant, but Rose texts me while I'm getting ready with instructions to "BRING OUT THE BOOBS," so I put on my fanciest (cleanest) skinny jeans, a white camisole and a blue and white checked shirt. I doubt Rose will be impressed, but it's the boobiest outfit I've got with me.

The restaurant isn't completely packed when we get there at 8, but it's definitely busy. They've got a band playing in the bar, which is jammed, but the restaurant is a little quieter. In the upstairs dining room where we ate last time, a huge array of food has been set out. Emmett, Rose and Edward are already eating when we get there, sitting in a cluster of comfortable looking armchairs set up next to the fireplace.

After I fill a plate with food, I'm about to sit with Esme and Carlisle at the banquet table when Edward calls my name, and I almost drop my plate. I turn around to face the chairs where Emmett, Rose and Edward are sitting, and Edward stands up.

"This chair is meant for you." He points at Emmett, who is sitting on a footstool. "The footstool too. Alice put them here for you."

"Oh. Thank you." Edward takes off before I can even get the words out, and Emmett smiles at me as he gets up and follows. I sit down with a sigh, both exasperated with Edward and delighted with the chair. I take out my phone to text Alice and thank her for the chair.

"Don't stress out, Bella," Rose says quietly. "He was rude, and he feels bad about it. He'll tell you himself, but try not to get too anxious waiting for him. You'd think a published writer would be better at expressing himself, but it actually takes him some time to find his words."

"It's not his fault. He keeps trying to help me, and all I can focus on are the words he says when he does it."

"Oh please, it's entirely his fault. Don't let him off the hook so quickly. He can't order you around, even if his heart is in the right place."

Emmett reappears with a virgin margarita for Rose and an offer to get a drink for me. Rose gives me a sip of her drink and it's delicious, so Emmett heads downstairs and I get up to collect more food for Rose and I.

Three drinks later, I'm stuffed, pleasantly buzzed, and completely in love with Rose. I understand now why she's the person Edward called. When I tell her how intimidated I was when I first met her, she cackles and calls me an idiot. When Rose says she's getting tired and wants to leave, I decide to find Alice and thank her for everything before I hitch a ride home.

After I track down Alice in the kitchen, I go looking for Edward. Don't go to bed angry, or something like that. Alice said she last saw him in the bar, so I head into the teeming mass of drunk people. I've barely looked around the bar when a couple boys in rugby shirts and baseball caps stumble past me sloshing their beers. My coordination is even worse with the boot than without, so I manage to swivel out of their way before I find myself covered in beer, but my boot isn't as lucky.

"Sorry, sorry," one says to my chest when I bend over to check out my wet foot. "Lemme buy you a drink to make it up to you."

"My boobs don't drink. But thanks for the offer." I discretely switch the ring I wear from my right hand to my left in case they take it further, but they just laugh and stumble off.

I don't see Edward and I've had enough of the bar crowd, so I head out the door onto the front patio and text Rose: BOOT SOAKING IN BEER. I'LL BE OUT FRONT WHEN YOU'RE READY TO GO. Then I spot Edward leaning on the railing, watching a light snow fall on the pond next to the restaurant.

"So this is where you're hiding," I say. He turns around to face me.

"I was being tailed by a bartender who was refilling my drink every time I took a sip. I had to get away from her or I wouldn't be able to stand right now."

"You could have come upstairs. Then I could have told you I'm sorry."

Edward shakes his head. "No you're not."

"What?"

"You shouldn't be. I did it again, didn't I? Offered to help you in the most insulting way possible."

"Oh, I think you could probably insult me more if you tried." After my hike around the restaurant, I'm tired of standing, so I try to boost myself up to sit on the railing, but with only one foot to push off with, I can't get enough oomph. On my second try, Edward picks me up by my waist and sets me on the railing. I thank him, but he stays in front of me with his hands on my waist. "Edward, it's not all your fault. Every time you offer me help, all I hear is you calling me a loser. That's on me, not you."

Edward looks over my shoulder at the snow. "The thing is, every time I think about not seeing you every day, not having you right across the hall, I start to panic."

"Edward, what do you think is going to happen when we go back to Hoboken? Do you think I'm going to jump out of the car and wave, 'thanks for the ride, have a nice life'? 'Thanks for carrying me around for a week, maybe I'll see you around sometime?'"

Edward doesn't say anything, just shakes his head a little.

"Edward, I like you." He looks down between us and moves his hands from my waist to the top of my thighs.

"I like you too, Bella."

"I feel like I've said this before, but I very much want to be your friend."

"I don't want to be your friend." Oh. Wow. Quick and painful.

"What – But – Why do you want me to be your roommate, then?"

"I don't want to be your roommate either."

"Well then why—"

Edward looks up and meets my eyes. "I want to be with you."

"What – You mean –"

"I'm crazy about you. I think about you all the time. I'm happier when I'm with you than I have been for years. I mean, aside from when I'm insulting you and making you cry. That part makes me feel pretty fucking terrible."

"But –"

"I won't do that anymore, Bella. I want to make you happy, more than anything. I would quit writing and go back to law school if it would make you happy."

Why would that make me happy? "Uh, it wouldn't."

"I can't promise I won't say stupid things, but I promise you, it's only because I'm so desperate to keep you in my life."

"You don't have to be desperate. I want to be here." I look down and put my hands over his. As soon as I look up, his lips are on mine. His lips are soft and warm, and the kiss is gentle and lovely, and then he threads one hand into my hair and presses just a little, and things heat up. We break apart for a moment – I look at his eyes, he looks at my mouth – and then we're kissing again. His tongue slips into my mouth, and I stroke it with mine. I can taste the whiskey on his tongue. I pull back and look at him.

"Are you drunk?"

He shrugs. "A little. Are you?"

I shrug. "A little."

"Do you think we should stop?"

"Not at all."

The next kiss is a mess of lips, teeth, and tongue. Edward holds my face in his hands, and I wrap my legs around his hips, and I just want to be closer. I want to climb him like a tree. Well, I want to climb him like a person who's good at climbing trees. I wrap my arms around his shoulders in order to pull myself closer, and he slides his hands down to my butt to support me.

"I KNEW IT!" The sound of Rose's voice breaks us apart. Edward steps back, and without the counterweight to keep me on the railing, I wobble backwards. When I gasp, Edward notices my flailing and grabs me before I fall. He helps me slide off the railing and holds on to me until I've got my feet back on the ground. When I look back up, Rose is watching us with a smirk on her face like the cat who ate the canary.

"I'm exhausted, and Emmett's drunk. We're going home. Would you two like to come with us?"

Edward looks down at me and I nod. "Yes."

Rose turns to go back inside, but Edward stops her. "Rose, if you could just keep this to yourself for now…I don't think we're ready for the Spanish Inquisition."

Rose steps back onto the porch. "No one's ever ready for the Spanish Inquisition." She crosses her arms. "Two conditions. One, you promise I get to be there when you tell everyone. Two, you promise to tell them it happened tonight."

"Why does that matter?"

"There's a pool, Edward. I had this week. Emmett's going to be crushed – he thought you'd end up on Bella's doorstep on Valentine's Day, drunk."

Edward scoffs. "That's kind of a cliché."

Rose rolls her eyes. "So is hooking up on New Year's Eve, but here you are. And I win." Rose grins triumphantly. "Now, I'm going to go get Emmett, so if you want to keep this a secret, you two probably shouldn't be standing like that when I come back."

"You okay?" Edward asks me when Rose is gone.

"I'm great. You?" I reach up to smooth his hair, which is looking a little wild, and rub his lips, which are looking a little pink.

He smiles at me. "Me too. Are you okay with keeping this between us? Just for a little while—"

"No, I get it, Edward. I am nowhere near ready to have a conversation with your sister about this. Maybe we could give it a little time—"

The restaurant door opens and we spring apart. Thankfully I do not fall over.

"Bro, where've you been? That hot bartender was looking for you," Emmett says, earning a smack on the arm from Rose.

"He doesn't care about the bartender, Em."

Once we're loaded in the car, Emmett plays with the satellite radio until he finds a 90s station. When he starts singing along with a remix of "Total Eclipse of the Heart" and dancing in his seat, the whole car moves with him.

"Why does the car smell like cheap beer?" He asks when the song is over.

"Oh, that's me. A couple idiots bumped into me and spilled their beer on my boot. It's pretty disgusting in there," I explain. When Emmett goes back to singing, Edward reaches down and helps me lift my smelly bionic foot onto his lap. He loosens the boot and pulls it off, then pantomimes smelling it and passing out.

Without the boot, I'm pretty much useless when we get home, so I've got to wait for Edward to pick me up and carry me into the house, but Edward seems pretty happy about it. He takes me upstairs so I can clean up while he takes the dogs out. I wash out the boot and put it in the bathtub to soak, but I can't take my jeans off by myself, so I wash my face and brush my teeth. When Edward comes up, he smiles at me and starts brushing his teeth too.

When I finish, I ease myself up onto the bathroom counter between the two sinks while I wait for Edward to finish. I know what I'm thinking, but I have absolutely no idea what he's thinking. Does he regret our little make-out session at the restaurant?

When he finishes brushing his teeth, Edward stands in front of me. He puts his hands on top of my thighs like he did at the restaurant.

"How are you feeling?" He asks.

"You mean my ankle? It's okay. A little sore, but I think it'll be okay after some rest."

"I'm glad to hear that, but I meant…how do you feel about us? Me?" He isn't looking at me again. So I do what I did at the restaurant – I put my hands on top of his. I slide his hands a little further up my thighs so he has to move closer to me, and then I wrap one hand around his neck and pull him down to kiss me. He responds eagerly. He presses in closer and wraps my legs around his hips. I put my hands on his chest, and then slide them down to his belt buckle. When I start to undo it, Edward pulls back, breathing heavily, and looks down at my hand.

"If someone comes home, which room are they least likely to hear us in?"

Edward looks up at me with hooded eyes. "Mine."

"Can you help me take off my jeans? They've got some beer on them."

Edward pulls off my jeans as gently as possible and I toss them into the bathtub to soak while he kneels and gives my ankle a cursory review.

"Do you want to ice it?"

"Maybe later." Edward looks back up at me, green eyes blazing, and I smile at him and wiggle my eyebrows as suggestively as I can. I probably look like I'm having a seizure, but it works. As he stands up, I wrap my hands around Edward's neck and he slips his hands under my butt, lifting me off the counter. He carries me into his room and lays me down on the bed, and then gives me a quick kiss. "Be right back," he says before he jogs out the door.

While he's away doing God-knows-what, I look around his room. It's almost a mirror image of Emmett's old room, but a lot more lived in. Where my room has dark green walls with red and blue accents, Edward's has dark blue walls with red and green accents. Aside from Edward's clutter, both rooms look like they belong in an ad for the Tommy Hilfiger Home Collection.

Edward reappears with a roll of what appears to be bubble wrap and packing tape. He closes and locks his door, then walks through the bathroom to lock the door to my room.

"Edward? Are you about to murder me and ship my body abroad?"

"Not unless you're into that." Edward sits down at the bottom of the bed. "It's for your ankle, Bella."

Edward delicately wraps my ankle and foot in bubble wrap and seals it with some tape, then sets the bubble wrap aside and lies down on the bed next to me.

"Did you get this idea from Michael Scott?"

He grabs my knee, lifts my leg over his hip and slides his hand up my leg to the bottom of my underwear. "Who?"

"Nevermind." Edward smiles and leans in to kiss me. His hand slides from my butt up to my waist, and slips under the camisole I'm wearing. I can't think about anything when he's kissing me, but when he shifts to kiss and suck on my neck, my brain starts working again and my hands move to his button-down. I unbutton his shirt, exposing the t-shirt underneath.

"Man, you've got a lot of clothes on." Edward smirks at me and rolls backwards off the bed, then stands in front of me.

"What do you want me to take off?" Oh boy. I bite my lip and eye him up and down.

"Are you wearing underwear?"

He smiles. "Yes."

"Shirts and pants." Edward pulls off his button-down and then his t-shirt, exposing that lovely chest. While Edward's taking off his jeans, I sit up and pull my camisole over my head so I'm left in just my bra and underwear. Edward's eyes go right to my chest when he notices. I take advantage of his distraction to check him out in his dark boxer briefs, which don't give much away.

"Edward." His eyes snap back to my face. I crook my finger at him and he climbs back into bed, propping himself up on one arm and leaning over me.

"You're so beautiful, Bella," Edward whispers.

"Right back 'atcha, Edward," I grin at him.

Edward appears as calm and broody as ever, but when he starts kissing me again, his kisses are intense and all-consuming. He slides one leg between mine and I can feel his erection against my thigh. His left hand slides up to cup my breast through my bra and we both moan as we kiss. He sneaks his hand around my back and before I know it, he's easing my bra off.

"Did you do that with one hand?" He smiles at me, a little smirky, but I think he's also blushing. "Impressive."

I sit up a little so he can take off my bra, and when we lay back down, Edward has scooted down so his face is level with my chest. Sneaky boy. He cups my breasts in his hands and squeezes, pushing them together, then takes my right nipple in his mouth. I wrap my legs around his waist and rub my pelvis against him, surreptitious-like. I'm sure he doesn't even notice.

"I need to tell you something, Bella." Oh God. Is he going to lecture me about health insurance? "I'd take your tits over that girl from _True Detective_ any day of the week."

I smile. "I think you totally missed the point of that story."

"I think I got the point." He looks up at me with a grin, then ducks his head and sucks my left nipple into his mouth. I play with his hair while I shift and rub myself against his pelvis.

Edward slides further down the bed and kisses my stomach. He sits up on his haunches and hooks his fingers in my underwear. He pauses and looks up at me, and when I nod, he slides my underwear down my legs. He lies down between my thighs and lifts my bad leg over his shoulder.

"You should keep it elevated." He smirks up at me and then kisses the top of my public mound while his thumb finds my clit. He slides his fingers down to my entrance and licks and sucks on my clit while he slides a couple fingers inside me. I play with my breasts while he's down below. When Edward notices, he moans, and the vibration makes my whole body hum. Edward is really starting to get me going, but I'm not one of those girls who can come over and over again, and I know what I want.

"Edward," I say, scrubbing my hand through his hair. "Come up here."

"What's wrong?" He asks as he crawls up my body.

"Nothing at all." His lips are glossy and I run my finger over them. "It's been a year since I had an orgasm with another person. I want you inside me."

He kisses me, wet and hungry, and when he presses down on top of me, I slide my hands down the back of his boxer briefs. I try to push down his underwear, but since I'm half a foot shorter than he is, I don't get very far. Instead, I slide a hand between us, pull out his cock and start stroking him. He moans into my mouth as we kiss and starts thrusting, which puts pressure on my pelvis and makes me moan.

Edward pulls back, breathing heavily, and holds himself above me on outstretched arms. "I should get a condom."

Edward pulls his boxer briefs off as he stands up, and I see him fully naked for the first time. He really is beautiful. He's got a lovely round butt. His dick isn't the largest I've ever seen – and thank God, I mean, I'm on tumblr so I've seen some things – but it's certainly big enough for me, with a rosy shaft and a swollen pink head. Even his balls are prettier than the average dude's, in that they aren't completely repulsive. (Like I said, I've seen some things.) I'm kind of disappointed I didn't get to play with him a little longer, but he is ready to go, and I have no desire to slow him down.

He pulls a condom out of a bag sitting on his dresser and rolls it on, then lies down facing me.

"How's your foot?"

Hunh? "My foot?" He smirks and points at my foot. "Oh, it's fine. It's really hoping I'm about to get laid, though."

Edward throws his head back and laughs, that funny goofy giggle I've only heard once or twice. "Well, I'd hate to disappoint your foot."

He kisses me sweetly while shifting me onto my back. Leaning on one arm above my head, Edward takes his cock in hand and rubs it against me.

"I love how wet you are, Bella."

"A year, Edward. It's been a year."

Edward smirks and then starts to push himself inside. It hurts a little, in that way that's also completely satisfying. Make it hurt, Edward. Make it hurt so good.

"What?" Edward looks up at me with unfocused eyes and a furrowed brow.

Oops. "Nothing, Edward. Good job. Excellent penis." He laughs breathlessly. He's in almost as far as he can go, so I shift and wiggle a bit until he's all the way in. He moans and kisses me, and uses his free hand to wrap my bad leg around his hip.

"Okay?" He asks.

"Edward, I promise I'll tell you if my leg hurts. Stop worrying about it. Don't hold back."

And he doesn't. Edward starts with a few slow thrusts, but he warms up as fast as I do. As his thrusts and moans accelerate, I reach up and grab the bars of his wrought iron bed, which gives me leverage to arch my back. Edward slips a little deeper, and we both moan. I can't get close enough to him. I press my breasts against his chest, and he slides an arm underneath me to press me even closer.

"Shit," he mumbles. "Are you close?"

"Rub my clit." He leans back a little so he has enough room to sneak a hand between us. He rubs fairly gently at first and keeps his thrusts slower.

"Harder, Edward." Edward rubs harder and faster, and thrusts harder and faster. Some tiny unoccupied portion of my brain registers the sound of the bed creaking beneath us, the wet sound of us fucking, and the crescendo of our moans, and prays that no one has come home yet.

"Okay, okay, I'm good," I tell him when I can feel myself getting close. I wrap both legs around his hips and grasp his butt in my hands so I can press myself against his pelvis with every thrust, and he grabs the bedframe above me. He thrusts hard once. "Yes." Twice. "YES." On the third thrust, I gasp and my whole body clenches around him. "YESSSSSSS."

"Fuuuuuuck," I barely register hearing Edward say as he comes. My body throbs while his cock jerks inside me. He collapses on top of me, and we lie in a sweaty heap until I start laughing. After a moment, Edward pushes himself up and raises an eyebrow.

"I laugh after a good orgasm. It's a good thing, Edward. I promise."

"If you say so." Edward peels himself off me, then holds on to the condom as he pulls out. He gives me a little kiss before he heads to the bathroom to clean up. I shiver once his body heat is gone and pull his comforter around me like a taco.

I must fall asleep for a moment, because the next time I open my eyes, Edward has his boxer briefs back on and he's unsealing the bubble wrap around my foot. He takes me to the bathroom, and gives me some privacy while he runs downstairs for my ice pack.

"Edward, I have to ask you a very serious question," I say when he gets back.

"Okay…"

"Is there anyone else in this house right now?"

He smiles at me. "Nope."

I sigh in relief. "Thank God."

"It's not even midnight yet. I know you were distracted by my excellent penis, but it's still early."

Edward carries me back to bed and we settle in to watch one of the New Year's Eve specials. After he ties the ice pack around my ankle, Edward produces a pint of ice cream.

"I have to tell you, Edward, if you're going to make me come and then feed me ice cream, you might have trouble getting rid of me."

He smiles into the ice cream carton and blushes a little. "That's what I'm hoping."

* * *

 _OMG I forgot how awkward it feels to write porn. Writing sex is the least sexy thing ever._

 _See you soon... Thanks for reading!_


	13. January 1st

_Hi again. Let's get to it...(bow chicka bow WOW)_

* * *

I wake up around 8 am next to a giant starfish. Edward is facedown on the bed, arms and legs akimbo. He isn't snoring, though, which is an improvement over my last sexual partner, and also an improvement over Samson. I limp/hop over to the bathroom as quietly as I can and peek into my room to see Samson sprawled across the bed on his back with his paws in the air. I assume Alice is the small round lump under the covers.

After bumbling around the bathroom, I lie back down on the edge of the bed. After a few moments, Edward snuffles, rolls around and cuddles up behind me. I'm not sure if he's awake, even when he snakes an arm around me in order to grab my left boob and presses his half-hard dick against my butt. I swing my arm back to elbow him in the side, not hard enough to wake him up if he's asleep, but he chuckles in my ear and pulls me closer. He kisses the back of my neck and slides his hand down and into my underwear.

"Edward, I'm pretty sure we're in a house full of people." Edward circles my clit with two fingers, then slips them inside me just a little.

"Shhhh, they'll be asleep for a while. Mom and Dad didn't get home until after 1, and Alice and Jasper didn't even leave the restaurant until at least two. Believe me, this is as much privacy as we're going to get until we go home." Edward's lips move to my shoulder and he rubs his erection against me.

"You don't think it's, um, disrespectful to your, um, parents…"

"Do you think Alice and Jasper haven't had sex since they moved in here?" His fingers move back to my clit.

"Uhhhh—"

"I'm more worried about waking up Alice than anyone else. I don't want to take her for a walk with an erection."

I grab his arm and he stops rubbing. "Okay, that, right there, is the reason why it's creepy to have a dog named after your sister."

Edward groans and starts moving again. "Please don't talk about my sister when my fingers, or any other part of my body, is inside yours." Edward slides my underwear down, exposing my butt, and then I hear him shuffling around.

"That's exactly my point." I turn my head and see Edward rolling on a condom. He smirks at me when he sees me watching, then wraps his hand around my bad leg and pulls it back to rest on top of his.

"What's your point?" Edward asks, and then rubs the head of his cock against my entrance. He presses in just a little. "Bella?"

"Ugggghhh, nevermind." I arch my back, which pushes my butt towards him and causes him to slip in further, which makes Edward groan. "You win."

Edward slides his arm back around me and presses on my pelvis as he slides the rest of the way in. "I think we both win." He rubs my clit a little, and then slides his fingers down to where we're joined. "Give me your hand." When I reach down, he presses my fingers against my clit. After we rub together for a little bit, I pull my fingers away. I reach behind me and slide my hand between us until my fingers find the base of his cock. When I wrap my hand around him and squeeze a little, Edward moans and thrusts harder. I release his cock and slide my hand down further to play with his balls a little.

"Are you trying to make me cum as fast as possible?" Edward growls in my ear.

"Are you close?"

"Yes," he grunts.

I pull a pillow from the top of the bed and tuck it in front of me. "Roll me forward a little."

"But your ankle—"

"Oh my god, fuck my ankle."

As Edward pushes me forward onto the pillow, I slide my hand back underneath me. While I rub my clit, Edward braces his hand on my waist and resumes thrusting.

"God, Bella, I wish you could see this. Your pretty little pussy wrapped around me…" Edward trails off as he speeds up.

"When my ankle heals, I'm going to sit on your cock and ride you for a week."

"Can't – Wait –" he grunts. I can tell he's barely holding on, so I press my hand against my pelvis and pinch my clit between my fingers.

"Bella –" He moans.

"It's okay, I'm close. Go for it," I tell him. He groans as he empties inside me, and the feel of his cock swelling and jerking pushes me over the edge.

After Edward pulls out, I roll over so I'm facing him. Edward leans over and presses his lips against mine in a chaste, but lingering kiss.

"Good morning," he says with a smile. I smile back at him, and he rolls over to get out of bed. "Hey! We've got an audience." I lean over to see Samson sprawled on the floor while Alice sits attentively, glaring at the bed.

"I think your dog hates me, Edward."

"Nah, she hates anything that stands between her and her morning routine."

By the time Edward gets back from walking and feeding the dogs, I've cleaned myself up as much as I can, but we've got a little problem.

"Edward, this room smells like sex. _We_ smell like sex."

He grins at me. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

"Only if we're still trying to keep this thing a secret."

Edward scrunches up his face and looks around the room. He goes over to his desk, opens a drawer, and takes out a candle and box of matches. After he lights the candle, he opens a couple of windows, and I shiver when a cold cross-breeze hits me.

"Wanna take a shower?" Edward asks me, then frowns. "Can you take a shower?"

"I think I can stay upright if someone's holding on to me."

Edward grins at me and waggles his eyebrows. "I'll do my very best."

In the shower, Edward and I take turns getting wet, and I lather up my hair while Edward soaps up his hands and then my body. While I wash out my hair, Edward focuses on making sure my breasts are extra clean. He'd probably be turning me on if I hadn't just come, but since I did, I just watch him entertain himself.

"You're welcome to play with them, but just know this isn't going anywhere."

"No?" He looks up at me with a frown, and it's the saddest I've ever seen him look.

"I'm not the Energizer bunny. I need a little bit of time to get my mojo going again." I look down at his groin pointedly. "Little Edward looks pretty tired, anyway."

Edward looks down and wiggles his hips. "He doesn't object to being called tired, but he does object to being called little. And his name's Eduardo."

"It's nice to meet you, Eduardo," I say as I soap up my hand and reach for him. Despite a thorough cleaning, Eduardo stays asleep, so we finish up in the shower just getting clean.

My stomach is grumbling by the time we get out of the shower, so I throw on my sweats and put my wet hair up in a bun so we can get to work on breakfast. I probably shouldn't be surprised that Carlisle's already in the kitchen when we get down there, but I am. The man is a breakfast machine. He stops mixing something when we come in, me on Edward's back, and looks at us with a smirk that's a mirror image of Edward's.

"So," he says. He points at us with his whisk. "This is happening, hunh?"

I slide off Edward's back and then smack him on the arm. "You said everyone was asleep, Edward," I hiss in his ear, but of course Carlisle hears me, because everyone hears everything in this house.

"You guys both have wet hair," Carlisle smiles at me. "And I only heard the shower run once." I hide my flaming face behind Edward's shoulder.

"Dad, we're not ready to talk to everyone about it yet. Do you think you could keep this to yourself—"

Carlisle waves us off while he pulls some stuff out of the fridge. "I'll keep it to myself, but if your mother is the last to know, she'll murder me, and you'll have to live with the knowledge that it was all your fault."

Edward looks down at me. "She'll be the first person we tell, when we're ready."

Carlisle lets us help with breakfast – French toast, hash browns and bacon, Esme's favorite hangover food – and then he takes a tray upstairs while Edward and I eat. Once he's gone, I slide my plate out of the way so I can bang my head on the marble countertop.

"What's wrong?" Edward asks. I roll my eyes at him.

"Super awesome secret keepers we are, Edward. We've been together twelve hours and a third of the people in your family have figured it out."

Edward smiles down at his plate. "I still think our instincts are right. We need some breathing room, you know? Before they start betting on how soon we'll be engaged." I shiver, then I look over at him.

"You know, I'm not sure I even want to get married."

"Let's not lead with that when we tell them about us." Edward smiles at me.

"I'm serious."

He shrugs. "Okay. Can we talk about it, I dunno, after we've been together a few weeks?"

"Sure."

After we finish eating and put the leftovers in the oven for Alice and Jasper, I lie on the couch with my foot up and Edward trusses it up with an ice pack. Edward sits by my head with his iPad and I make him download the episode of _The Office_ where Michael burns his foot on the George Foreman Grill so that Edward will understand when I compare his handiwork to Mailboxes Etc. When the show ends, Edward gets distracted by his email, so I pull out my phone to check mine.

"Edward, what's your editor's name?"

"Jason. Jenks. Why?"

"He emailed me yesterday."

"He did? Why?" I scan quickly through the email.

"He heard that I was looking for a position and he wants to invite me to come in for an informational interview. He asked me to send him my resume."

"Really?" I sit up so I can see face him.

"Edward, did you ask him to do this?"

"Nope. I haven't even talked to him since the holiday party. I told him I was busy with family stuff and I'd send five chapters after the holidays."

"But, I mean, how else would he have heard about me?"

"Dunno. Want me to ask him?"

"Do I want you to ask your editor if he's really interested in interviewing the girl you're sleeping with? No."

"WHAT?" I hear from the kitchen. I turn to find Alice standing there, and I flop back down on the cushions with a groan. "YOU'RE SLEEPING TOGETHER?"

Edward sighs and rubs his eyes.

"The next time we're trying to keep a secret, we need to put bells on all your family members."

"Who's sleeping together?" Apparently Jasper has joined us.

"Bella and Edward!"

"Oh. Is that new information?"

"It is to me, Jasper!"

"Is there leftover breakfast?"

"I'll tell you where it is if Alice will take it down a few notches," Edward says while glaring at them. "In the oven."

Alice flounces over and sits down on the coffee table in front of us. "How long has this been going on?"

Edward looks at his watch. "About twelve hours."

"And when were you going to tell me?"

"Never." Alice kicks him in his shin. "Ow! Fuck!"

"When were you going to tell me, Bella?"

"Once we're outside kicking distance?"

Alice pouts at me. "I thought we were friends, Bella."

I tilt my head and narrow my eyes at her. "What week did you have in the pool, Alice?"

She sniffs and blinks innocently at me. "What are you talking about?"

"Yeah, okay." I look over at Edward, who's watching me. "We just need some space, Alice. If you want it to work out, we need some space."

Alice sighs dramatically and throws her hands up in the air. "What does that _mean_? Do you want us to act like we don't know anything is happening?"

"That would be great, actually," Edward says. "Just for a little while."

Jasper leans over the back of the couch. "Leave them be, Allie. Come eat breakfast."

When they go to the kitchen, I pull a pillow from under my head so I can suffocate myself. Edward sighs.

"I need to tell my Mom. At least Emmett can be the last one to know."

"If Rose hasn't told him yet," I mumble into my face pillow.

"What's that?" Edward asks.

I pull the pillow away from my face. "Go ahead." Edward pulls out his phone and texts his dad to tell him he can tell Esme.

After Alice and Jasper finish breakfast, they join us on the couch.

"So," Alice says with a bright smile. "What's new?"

Edward ignores her. "Hey, is that email from Jason a big deal? Just tell him you found another position."

"You found a job?" Alice asks.

"No, but I got an email about interviewing for another internship. And I got an email from Edward's editor about an interview, but I have no idea how he heard about me or got my email address and Edward is refusing to own up to it."

"If he has a job for you, does it matter? A job is better than an internship," Alice says.

"I know, but it's fishy. Why would he email me instead of the HR department? Given what I've heard about him, and what I've heard about the women who work for him, I'm wary about the whole thing."

"Maybe he could help you find a job with someone else at Paradigm. Once he knows you're Edward's, um…" she looks between us, "friend, he won't be creepy."

"That's not how she wants to get a job, Alice." Edward's voice is hard, and when I look at him, he's staring at Alice. "How do you know Jason?"

Alice rolls her eyes. "He hit on me at your last book release party. He told me to call him if I needed anything."

"He did?" Jasper asks. "Where was I?"

Alice shrugs. "He's a creep. He creeps."

"A week ago you were lecturing me about respecting her choices." Edward's still glaring at Alice.

"I called him weeks ago, before I knew what she wanted," Alice says. "I can't believe it took him so long. I guess I know how much he really wants to get into my pants."

"Is that a problem for you?" Jasper asks.

"WHAT ARE YOU GUYS TALKING ABOUT?" I interject.

"Alice is the reason Jason emailed you," Edward says to me. "Whatever you assumed I did, she probably did."

"LIKE I SAID, I did it before I knew she didn't want any help," Alice glares back at Edward.

"At least I asked her first," Edward says while I sit up on the couch and then struggle to stand up. "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to put my boot on so I can stomp around effectively."

Edward gets up to help me, and I let him carry me back upstairs. Fucking ankle.

"Are you mad at me?" He asks as he help me put on my boot. "I didn't actually do anything…this time."

"I know. I'm not mad at you. It's just – a lot. You Cullens are A LOT. At any given moment there are probably three of you plotting or manipulating me into something."

"Do you think I manipulated you?"

I sigh. "To your credit, I think you are downright terrible at manipulating people."

Jasper appears in the doorway and knocks on the open door. "Sorry to interrupt. Rose and I want to take Bella out for lunch. Thought she might appreciate some time away from Downton Abbey West."

"Sounds great."

Edward helps me stand in the boot and I kiss him before I leave. "Didn't we just eat breakfast?" Edward grouses as I leave with Jasper.

Rose meets us at the garage with a big smile. "So what did everyone do last night?" she asks. "Have fun?" I assume my blush is enough of an answer, since she drops it when we get in the car.

"So I hear the wondertwins are making you crazy," she says as we pull out.

I sigh. "They really are kind of similar, aren't they?"

"Don't tell them that," Jasper and Rose say in unison. "Jinx," Rose adds as they laugh.

"When I think about it, I ask myself what I'm really so worked up about. So I have two people who care about me and want to help me get a job. What the hell am I even complaining about? But they're just so heavy-handed, you know? I tell Edward not to do something and it turns out Alice did it weeks before without even asking me. How can I make decisions about my own life when they're doing things I don't even know about?"

Jasper looks away from the road to smile at Rose, who's sitting next to him in the front seat. "Welcome to the family, Bella," Jasper says.

"Am I overreacting? Doesn't this stuff drive you guys crazy?"

"Well, I've probably got the easiest Cullen," Rose says. "Emmett can be a lot to take, but he's really laid back, especially compared to the other two."

"So is Alice the worst, or is Edward the worst?" Jasper asks her.

"You know Edward has always had a special place in my heart," Rose says. "Ever since I met him as a teenager and told Esme I thought he was autistic."

"Really?" I ask.

"Oh yeah. It was the first Christmas I spent here, Edward must have been 17 or 18. He barely said five words to me the whole week, and everyone else was so friendly and talkative. I cornered Esme in her office one day and told her, with that self-righteous certainty you only possess when you're 21, that I had diagnosed her son, based on the one intro to psych class I had taken. I think the only reason she doesn't tease me about it more is because it makes Edward feel bad."

"But he's not autistic. Is he?"

"Not at all. He's an introvert in a family of extroverts. Which is certainly a challenging way to grow up, but it's not a developmental disorder."

"So Alice is the worst?" Jasper asks Rose.

"I'm not saying that," she responds. "Out loud," she adds after a moment.

"For the record," Jasper eyes me in the rear view mirror, "I want you to note the inflection in my question. I also did not say Alice is the worst."

"Alice is kind of the opposite of Emmett, isn't she? I mean, 'laid back' is the last phrase I would ever use to describe her."

"Alice doesn't even relax in her sleep," Jasper responds. "I think she makes to-do lists in her head all night long."

"Do you think I'm overreacting?" I ask him.

"When it comes to Alice, it's very hard to overreact. When she has an opinion, she isn't quiet about it, so if you're going to challenge her, you want to do it loudly and clearly. It gets easier the longer you know her, though. At first she treats everyone like they were born into this family, like she can say or do anything – if they don't like it they'll call her on it. She counts on other people tell her where the boundaries are. The thing is her intentions are overwhelmingly positive. She only wants to help. Alice doesn't fuck with people she doesn't like. If she's messing with your life, it's because she loves you."

"She's gotten so much better at reading people," Rose adds. "Or maybe Jasper's good at it, and she's good at listening to him. When I met her, she was maybe 14. I thought to myself, 'this girl's mouth is either going to change the world or get her killed.'"

"Well, she changed my world, at least," Jasper says. "There's no way I'd be opening my own restaurant without her."

"You met her when you were in culinary school, right?" I ask him. I've heard their story from Alice, but I wonder how her story compares to his.

"I was, but I was spending more time with my pot dealer than I was in class. Until I met Alice."

"How did you end up here? Alice said you were from Texas originally."

"Yeah, I grew up on a ranch near Waco. I never fit in there. I liked comic books when I was a kid and pot when I was a teenager. Wasn't really into football or baseball, and my fondness for Rage Against the Machine didn't make me popular with the youth group at church. My parents were in politics, and I wasn't the kind of kid they could put on canvassing materials or onstage at rallies, especially when I went goth and died everything black. I think my parents were delighted when I said I wanted to leave the state. I could have told them I was going to the IHOP School of Sodomy and Joint Rolling and they'd have written a check, as long as it was far enough away that I wouldn't run into anyone from town."

"Do you keep in touch with them at all?"

"My mom emails me every now and then. The last time I saw any of them was about three years ago. Allie and I went down for my sister's wedding. She was determined to fix our relationship, get to know her future in-laws." He shakes his head. "She tried so hard. My parents aren't terrible people, they just believe what they believe and don't care what anyone has to say about it. Alice is pretty much the same, but she and my parents couldn't disagree more. When we got on the plane to come home, she turned to me and said, 'let's never come back here,' and I was happy to agree."

"Are you planning on inviting them to your wedding?"

"Yes, but we're all operating on the assumption they won't come. Dad's running for Congress, and we don't think he'll take time off to come to Vermont for his weird son's wedding to a girl who 'sorta looks like a boy,' in my dad's words. My older sister is running his campaign, so I doubt she'll come. My younger sister might."

"Are you close to your sisters?"

"Eh. My dad started calling my older sister, Kim, his 'only son' when I was a kid, so we were always sort of set in competition with each other, but I just didn't give a shit about being the perfect son. She won by default. It didn't do our relationship any good. Kim's a fierce lady, but she puts it to work in service of my dad's bullshit, so there isn't any common ground between us. My younger sister, Susie, is a sweetheart. She was crushed when I left Texas. She's still trying to make Daddy happy, though. She says stuff she doesn't believe just to fit in with them, which drives me nuts. Is it worse to say ignorant nonsense because you actually believe it, or because you're trying to fit in? That's the Whitlock family version of who's worse."

As Jasper's talking, we arrive in Hanover, New Hampshire, and drive through the Dartmouth College campus on the way to a diner that Jasper knows will be open. Dartmouth looks like the idyllic New England college, with red brick and turrets and columns and a big quad covered in snow.

"I have to say, Jasper, despite what you said, your dad kind of sounds like an asshole," I say after he pulls into a parking space and we head into to the diner.

He smiles wistfully at me. "Maybe I'm grading them on a curve. They aren't as terrible now as I remember them being when I was a kid, but maybe they're just better at hiding it. Bigger stage and all. Anyway, I thought we were here to mock the Cullen family dysfunction, not the Whitlocks'."

"So, Rose," I start, after we sit down and place our orders. "The other day, when you were goading Edward into being jealous of Jake" – she beams at me – "you said you'd tell me how Emmett became such a feminist."

"Sure, that's almost as depressing as talking about Jasper's parents," she says. "Well, I met Emmett when we were both sophomores in college. I signed up for an intro to women's studies class, and on the first day, in walks this huge dude in a football jersey. Emmett was one of three backup quarterbacks on the team at the time – he hadn't had any playing time yet, so he wasn't very well known on campus, but he was obviously out of place. The professor spent five minutes trying to convince him he was in the wrong room until he pulled out his schedule and showed it to her. Anyway, he takes the seat next to me, and after a few weeks of small talk, starts asking me out for coffee after class. I am absolutely positive this guy signed up for the class in order to meet girls. I change seats, avoid him like the plague.

"In October, the campus explodes. There was a huge party at a house off-campus, tons of football players. Emmett wandered into a room and found a guy on top of a girl with another guy watching. Both guys were wasted, the girl was basically unconscious, and the guy on top was assaulting her with a beer bottle. So Emmett pulls the guy off her, they fight, he knocks the guy out and calls the cops. Well, turns out the guy was the star quarterback. It was a huge deal – by Monday, everyone on campus knew who Emmett was, and most of them hated him. They said he made it all up, that he was just trying to take out his competition and get himself on the field. The next time I saw him in class, he looked like an animal caught in a trap. He had to move out of his dorm, so Esme and Carlisle flew out to find him a place to live. He quit the team, thought about dropping out of school."

The waitress appears with our food, so Rose pauses her story.

"What happened to the rapist?" I ask before Rose can dig into the two plates of food she orders.

"They had a disciplinary hearing. The girl didn't remember anything, and the other guy who was there claimed he didn't remember anything, so Emmett was the main witness. He ended up getting suspended for a year, and prosecutors declined to prosecute, but the school and the county got a ton of negative press. The guy ended up dropping out and disappearing back to wherever he was from."

"And you and Emmett started dating?"

"Yeah, I felt sorry for the guy. I asked him out for coffee and as soon as I let my guard down a little, I fell for him. He's a wonderful guy who's great in bed, and I got to spend the first two years of our relationship threatening to beat the shit out of anyone who came after him. It was a match made in heaven."

"That's how it works with the Cullens," Jasper says. "You open the door a little, and they come barging in and turn your life upside down."

"Did they really go after him for two years?"

"They go after him now, on Facebook, and it's been more than ten years. A bunch of idiots who think they'd have two Superbowl rings today if only Emmett hadn't called the cops. Every time they start up again I want to get on a plane and fly out there to punch one of them."

"Do you still have family there?"

"Not really. My dad's probably floating around Minnesota or Wisconsin or something, but I haven't seen him since I was eight."

"Did your mom…pass away?"

"Yeah, she died when I was fifteen. But she was in and out of jail for years, so I lived with my grandma from when I was six to when I was thirteen. My mom was in jail when my grandma passed away, and no one could track down my dad, so I went to foster care."

"Jesus, Rose. I'm sorry."

"Eh. Unless you're the person who introduced my parents to heroin, you've got nothing to apologize for."

I smile because I know how tiresome it can be when people apologize every time they hear your story. "I'm still sorry you went through that, though."

After we eat, Jasper and Rose load up on pies and cookies at the bakery counter before we load back into the car for the drive home.

"So you got to hear all our sobs stories today, Bella. Did it make you feel any better about the family?" Rose asks, and she and Jasper laugh.

"I want to ask you guys something, but I don't want to offend you," I say.

"You won't," Jasper says at the same time Rose asks, "Have you met Alice?"

"Have you ever noticed that the Cullen kids are all attracted to..."

"Strays?" Rose asks. Jasper smiles at me in the mirror.

"I was going to say 'people with complicated families,' but 'strays' works."

"They're fixers, for sure," Rose says. "Carlisle and Esme fix things at work, and the kids do it in their personal lives."

"The upside is, if you're ever in trouble, you'll have seven people fighting for you," Jasper says.

"The downside is, every now and then, you'll have to remind them that they don't have to fix every little thing that you complain about," Rose says.

"Amen, sister," Jasper mutters.

My cell phone buzzes in my pocket and I unlock it to see a string of text messages. I scroll past the ones from Alice to one from Edward: "Hey, it's Edward. Sorry my sister is a pain in the ass. Are you dumping me?"

I write back: "NO."

A minute later, my phone buzzes: "Do you want to get out of here? Back to Hoboken?"

"YES. Tomorrow?"

"I was thinking tonight."

"If your dad hasn't already started cooking a big family dinner for tonight, fine."

Edward disappears, so I scan through Alice's messages. He comes back a few minutes later: "We're leaving first thing tomorrow morning."

"U tell your mom about us?"

"Dad did. She's very happy. She'll be even happier to know you aren't dumping me yet."

"Not dumping U, but no sex til Hoboken."

Edward sends me back a frowny face. Then: "That's not how the song goes."

Alice is standing on the front steps when we pull up, and Edward is sitting on the steps next to her with the dogs.

"I'm so sorry, Bella," I can hear her start as soon as I get out of the car. "I shouldn't have done it. I'm so sorry. I'll stay out of everything from now on, I promise."

"Well, let's not make promises we can't keep," I say when I'm standing on the step in front of her, and Edward snorts. "If you had it to do all over again—"

"I wouldn't."

"Then we're fine."

Alice grabs me in a hug so quickly I lose my balance, and probably would have fallen off the step if Jasper hadn't been behind me to steady me.

When Alice and Jasper go inside, I sit down on the steps next to Edward.

"You know, if we leave right now, we could be in Hoboken having sex by ten p.m.," Edward says.

I bump him with my shoulder. "I think you'll survive one night."

"This isn't about me. I'm just worried about you."

"Such a gentleman, Edward."

Edward puts his arm around my waist and pulls me closer. I lean my head against his shoulder and he kisses the top of my head. "I'm glad Jasper and Rose didn't run you off."

I snort. "Jasper and Rose are the sanest people here."

Edward throws his head back and laughs, a full, throaty laugh. It's a delightful sound. I love making him laugh. "You're right."

When I smile up at him, Edward leans down and presses his lips to mine in a slow kiss.

"HO-LY SHIT," I hear from the direction of Rose's house. Edward pulls away with a groan and I see Emmett walking towards us with a big grin on his face. Rose is trailing behind him. "No wonder you were dodging the hot bartender."

"Stop talking about the hot bartender, Em," Rose says. "No one cares."

Emmett stops in front of me and extends his hand. "Welcome to the family, Bella." After I shake his hand, he smacks the top of Edward's head. "Don't fuck it up, asshole."

Edward swings back at Emmett, but Emmett dances out of the way as Alice growls and barks at him.

Esme is coming downstairs as we all walk into the house, and she lights up when she sees us. She stops in front of Edward and I and pulls us both into a big hug, which is probably the most low-key reaction Esme is capable of. Edward helps me take off my boot in the foyer, and after I settle on the couch, he helps me wrap an ice pack around my ankle. He cuddles up next to me with his iPad, and I close my eyes and rest a little while the rest of the family talks about us like we're not in the room.

When Edward wakes me up, the sun is down, the fire is going, and dinner is on the table, so I must have slept for a while. When everyone is seated at the table, Rose stands up.

"Bella, I want you to have this." She hands a $100 bill around the table to me. "That's the money I'm going to get from these fools thanks to you guys getting together. You went shopping with Alice even though you hate shopping. You went to the top of a mountain even though you tend to fall down them, and you fell down. Now that you can't run away, we're sending you home to Hoboken with your own personal Eeyore. No one has ever deserved $100 more. To Bella." Rose raises her water glass to me, and everyone else joins her.

"Thanks, Rose." My cheeks are on fire, and I'm a little choked up.

"Thanks, Rose," Edward chimes in sarcastically.

Rose raises her glass again. "To Eeyore." Everyone but Edward raises their glasses again. Edward huffs, leans back in his chair and crosses his arms, but his grumpiness is no match for Carlisle's meatloaf, which is, hands down, one of the best things I've ever eaten.

After we demolish the pies Jasper bought, Emmett wants to watch a college football game and Esme wants to play Trivial Pursuit, so we do both at the same time, which is as chaotic as it always is when all eight of us are together. When Edward stops talking and starts glaring at everyone but me, I make excuses about my leg hurting, and Edward carries me upstairs with poorly disguised relief. I try not to think about what his family suspects we're doing. I'm so paranoid about it that I make Edward open both our bedroom doors once we're both ready for bed.

"You know, if you keep making excuses to get me out of family fun-time, you might have trouble getting rid of me," Edward says as he climbs into bed next to me.

I smile at him when I remember what he said to me last night. "That's what I'm hoping," I reply.

* * *

 _When I first outlined this story, this was the final chapter. This was intended to be a short, one-month story about how two guarded people met and got together. Since then, I've thought a lot about these characters and the rest of their lives. I've got five more chapters planned, but we're going to stop following them day-to-day and instead drop in on them in the future. Next chapter: Bella and Edward take a trip back to Forks._

 _Take care, internet friends. Thanks for reading._


	14. Epilogue: Summer 2016

_Hi again. Here's the first of the epilogues, which takes place the summer after Bella and Edward get together. Edward's POV, because...I wanted to._

* * *

"Bella…"

"Yessss…"

"Bella." I grab her hips.

"I'm close, baby."

"BELLA." I squeeze her hips to stop her riding me. "I think there's a bear outside."

"WHAT?" Bella collapses on top of me so she can see out the windows at the head of the bed. "Where?"

"I don't know. I just hear something rustling around outside."

Bella climbs off me with a groan, and if it weren't for the noisy bear outside, you could probably hear my dick groan too. "It's probably a deer or something, Edward. Or a rabbit. Maybe a prairie dog."

I scoff. "It's not a prairie dog, Bella." We're in an RV in Custer State Park, south of Mount Rushmore in South Dakota. We visited a prairie dog colony in Badlands National Park yesterday, and there's no way one of those fat little rodents is making this much noise.

Bella lies on her side so she can see out the window, and I press up against her butt in a desperate attempt to keep my dick hard. That passive aggressive fucker knows I'm the reason he's so frustrated right now, and he's absolutely going to punish me by refusing to show up the next time I need him.

"So where's this bear, honey?" Bella looks back at me with a smirk, but she reaches behind her and starts rubbing me, so she can make as much fun as she wants to. "Do you think it's a grizzly? Maybe it's a family of bears. The Berenstain bears, out for justice."

"Look, over by those trees. See the bushes that are moving?" I point and then cup her breast. "Aren't you glad we aren't in a tent?" It took me weeks to convince Bella to let me rent this RV for our road trip, and she rolled her eyes so hard when we went to pick it up that I'm surprised she didn't strain something.

"I'm not afraid of wiggling bushes, Edward." She slides a pillow in front of her pelvis and helps me guide myself back to her entrance. "But there would definitely be less sex if we were sleeping on an air mattress in a tent," she says after I push in.

"Such a good decision," I say as I play with her clit.

Bella chuckles. "Here comes your family of bears, Edward." I look out the window and see three raccoons coming out of the bushes.

"Raccoons are vicious, Bella," I say, but her laughter makes me start laughing. "They could have made off with Alice."

Bella finally stops laughing when she comes.

* * *

Over the next week, Bella, the dogs and I visit Devil's Tower, Yellowstone, Grand Teton, and Glacier National Parks. We stop in Seattle for a stay in a fancy hotel and a nice dinner, which I owe Bella after two weeks of burnt food. (Charcoal is fickle bitch.) Finally, we arrive in Forks, Washington, our ostensible destination, where two of Bella's high school friends are getting married next week.

Five minutes after we pass the "Welcome to Forks" sign, Bella pulls up in front of a small white house backed up against a dark, thick forest. The house is tidy but a little ramshackle, like the rest of the houses on the block. In front of the house are a tiny blue Toyota and a huge old red truck.

Samson charges out of the RV as soon as Bella opens the door, and runs up the stairs to the front porch faster than I've ever seen him move. He's met on the front porch by a man and woman who I assume are Angela and Ben. Samson gives them both a cursory sniff and then noses the front screen door open and snakes inside.

"What's up with Samson?" I ask Bella as we walk up the front steps.

"He recognizes his old home," she says. She looks at me and I see tears in her eyes. "I think he's looking for my dad."

I want to give her a hug, but Angela beats me to it. I shake Ben's hand and then he and I stand there awkwardly while Angela and Bella hug. Angela's tall, almost as tall as I am, and thin, with dark hair and retro glasses. Ben's shorter, barely taller than Bella, with dark hair and wire rimmed glasses.

When Angela and Bella finish hugging, Angela hugs me and Ben hugs Bella. Samson pushes out the front door and sits on the front porch with a sigh. Bella sits down next to him and pets him while he watches the road, and I set Alice down so she can sniff around the porch and the yard. Angela goes inside to get us some drinks, and Ben and I sit on the front porch swing. When Angela returns, she asks lots of questions about our road trip, and I answer while keeping an eye on Bella and Samson, sitting quietly on the edge of the porch.

"You think Samson's still looking for your dad?" Angela asks during a lull.

Bella smiles at us glumly. "I don't know. Most of dad's stuff is gone, right? My apartment probably smells more like Charlie than this house does, but I don't know if he's figured it out, or if he's just waiting for Charlie to come home."

"Why don't we go inside?" Angela suggests. "The rain is picking up, and I've got chili in the crock pot."

Samson reluctantly leaves his post on the front porch, but Alice is delighted to be indoors. Like the outside of the house, the inside is clean and tidy, if a little old fashioned. Downstairs is a living room, dining room, kitchen, laundry room and half-bath, and Bella says there are two bedrooms and a bathroom upstairs, as well as a small third bedroom used for storage. Most of the furniture downstairs is Angela and Ben's, but Bella's dad's old Barcalounger still sits in the corner, and I know Angela and Ben left Bella's bedroom untouched when she moved.

Over lunch, Bella asks Angela and Ben a hundred questions about their wedding, which sounds like a low-key but big event. The whole town and a bunch of out-of-town relatives are invited, but the wedding will be in Angela's dad's church and the reception will be in the town park, with food provided potluck style by Ben and Angela's relatives.

After lunch, Bella tells them all about our lives on the other side of the country. Bella came to my place when we got home from Vermont after Christmas, and she basically never left. She gave up the lease on her apartment a month later, after a bunch of hand-wringing about where she would go if we broke up. It was fast, for sure, and we probably wouldn't have moved in together so quickly had her lease not been an issue, but I've never regretted it. I'm 95% certain Bella feels the same.

Bella spent the spring interning at Baldwin Books, and I spent the spring finishing my book. When her internship ended in May, her supervisor told her they were expecting a couple junior positions to open up this fall due to retirements and promotions, and she'd be at the top of the list of people they'll call in for an interview. Instead of transitioning to another internship or temp job, I convinced Bella to take the summer off, which made it possible for us to spend a couple of months travelling during the lull between finishing my book and starting the next book tour. If Bella gets the job at Baldwin, she'll never be able to take this much time off again. If she doesn't get the job at Baldwin, I'm going to look like a selfish jackass. We've both got a lot riding on that job.

Of course, Bella doesn't have to work. I'm not Stephen King or J.K. Rowling, but I've got more money than I know what to do with. I want to marry her and buy us a townhouse and take her on trips around the world. But Charlie and Renee Swan raised a fiercely independent girl who will never be done proving her worth to the world. I can get away with spending money on stuff that benefits both of us – like the giant RV parked in the driveway – but my girl wants to make a difference in the world, and she won't feel that way reading books on the deck of a boat in the Mediterranean.

"So does Jake know you're back in town?" Angela asks, pulling my attention back to their conversation.

"I messaged him in Facebook to let him know we were coming. And I used the word 'we' a whole bunch of times, so hopefully he's expecting Edward too."

"Are you going to meet up with him while you're here?"

"I didn't suggest it. Maybe I should have. But I figure this is his home turf now, you know? If he'd prefer not to see me, he has every right."

"Well, with that in mind…we thought we'd go out to dinner tonight, but we didn't know if you'd be up to Saturday night at the Lodge, or if you'd rather head to Port A or Sequim."

Bella looks over at me. "We've spent so much time driving, it would be nice to stay close to home. But I don't know if Edward's ready for the Lodge."

"What's wrong with the Lodge?" I ask.

"You remember when we went to Vermont in March, and we went to that restaurant in town and ran in to your middle school English teacher, your senior prom date, and that guy you used to buy weed from?"

"Yeah."

"It will probably be something like that."

I shrug. "It's gonna happen eventually, right? Isn't the whole town invited to the wedding?"

"Not the whole town, but yeah, it's probably inevitable."

"I'm up for it if you are."

Here's who we run in to at the Lodge:

Mike, Bella's senior prom date: he calls himself her "high school boyfriend," but she grimaces and shakes her head furiously behind his back when he says it. Mike's one of those guys who's clearly extremely proud of his hair. He may have a mediocre job and a less-than-mediocre personality, but he'll always have his fluffy douchebag hair.

Jessica, one of Bella's friends from high school and Mike's date: I'm fairly certain Jessica has been staking out the Lodge in anticipation of Bella's visit. I'm also fairly certain she did not need to "squeeze" past me four times and press her tits up against me. The Lodge isn't that crowded.

Lauren, who is introduced to me as one of Bella's "friends" but I suspect she's more of a frenemy. I'm fairly certain Lauren is stalking Mike and Jessica. Lauren is out with Eric, the kid whose van spun out on ice and almost killed Bella in high school. That's not a memory I would reminisce over, but I'm not Eric.

We also meet two cops who worked with Bella's dad, Bella's high school biology teacher, and the town doctor, who remembered all of Bella's old injuries. There's also a girl behind the bar who eyes Bella suspiciously throughout dinner, but never comes over to say hi. Bella doesn't even seem to notice, but she and Angela start whispering about it as soon as we leave the restaurant. Apparently the girl behind the bar is Leah, and she's been dating Jake off and on for a while, but no one knows if they're currently "on."

Since Angela's dad is the minister at one of the churches in town, she and Ben have family obligations most of the day on Sunday, so they head up to bed early, and I find myself in a Bella-themed time capsule, complete with a tiny double bed that squeaks every time you move. When Bella gets back from the bathroom, I look at her balefully from my spot on the bed, while my feet dangle off the end of the bed.

"Bella," I say, to call her attention to this horrible situation.

"What?" she asks as she unpacks her bag.

I bounce my hips noisily on the bed. "I think we should sleep in the RV."

She finally looks up at me. "What are you talking about?"

"Have you ever had sex in this bed?"

Bella rolls her eyes, then screws up her face as she thinks. "I'm sure I have, but I don't remember…"

Ouch. Sorry, Jake. "Does this bring back any memories?" I bounce on the bed a few times to make it squeak.

"Does it matter? Did you sleep with anyone in your bed before me?" She climbs into bed next to me, which puts her practically on top of me in this tiny bed. Which I wouldn't mind, if the bed wouldn't announce our activities to the entire neighborhood.

"I don't care who you slept with, Bella. I care about how you're going to sleep with me, this week."

"Ben and Ang have jobs, Edward, and a wedding to prepare for. I'm sure we'll have lots of time alone. But I'm not sneaking out to an RV to fuck in front of my dad's house."

As promised, Angela and Ben are gone by the time Bella and I get up on Sunday, and we celebrate by having squeaky sex on a tiny bed. After breakfast, we load the dogs into Bella's old red pickup and drive out to Cape Flattery, a dramatic, windswept corner of the state jutting into the Pacific Ocean. On Monday, we drive to Port Angeles and take a ferry across the Strait of Juan de Fuca to Victoria, British Columbia, a ridiculously British little seaside town on Vancouver Island. On Tuesday, we drive into Olympic National Park and hike through the Hoh Rainforest. On Wednesday, we drive to the other side of the park, near Port Angeles, and drive up Hurricane Ridge Road to the top of a mountain. There Bella discovers a new bit, where she calls every animal we see a bear. "Look, a bear," she says when we see some deer. "Look, a bear," she says when we run into a golden retriever. "Look, a bear," she says when we see a bald eagle. (Alice goes into her sling every time we see a bald eagle.)

Angela and Ben have taken Thursday and Friday off work to get ready for the wedding, and they've scheduled the bachelor and bachelorette parties for Thursday and the rehearsal dinner for Friday. They're kind enough to invite me to both, even though none of these people had met me a week ago. I'm unintentionally an asshole on a regular basis, but I'm self-aware enough to know that people take it personally when you say you'd rather be alone than meet their family and friends.

Ben's bachelor party is a pretty calm affair. We start out at the local bowling alley, where I drink enough beer to not care that I'm a terrible bowler. We end up at the Lodge, where I eat enough potato skins to soak up the beer and try to avoid Leah, who glares at us from behind the bar. But I'm tired and drunk and eventually I make the mistake of sitting near the bar.

"You're Bella's boyfriend, aren't you?" I hear from behind me.

"Yep," I say as I turn. "You're Jake's girlfriend, aren't you?"

Leah scoffs. "Not anymore."

Then why are we having this conversation? "Sorry."

"Bella really did a number on him."

Nope, don't have the patience for this conversation. "Bella and Jake's relationship is none of my business, and I'm still dating Bella. What does that make it to you?"

She glares at me. "I'm just looking out for you."

I roll my eyes, but stop when I feel like I'm going to fall off my barstool. "You don't even know my name. If trying to start fights with strangers is your hobby, knock yourself out. But don't pretend to be motivated by anything other than your own BS, and don't imagine you know my girlfriend better than I do. Anyone who knows Bella knows she regrets hurting Jake every day."

Ben's brother interrupts us to ask Leah to tab us out, and when she flounces away, Ben comes up to me.

"Sorry, man. None of us knew she worked here until we saw her here last weekend. We would have gone somewhere else if we had known she'd approach you."

"Don't worry about it. Bella's spent weeks stuck in the middle of nowhere with my crazy family. I can deal with one conversation."

Ben and I beat the girls home, so we're sitting on the couch watching Jimmy Fallon break eggs on Bruce Willis' head when they come crashing through the front door. They're both a little disheveled, and Angela is wearing a sash and a plastic cowboy hat with a pink penis painted on it. Clearly their party was the wild one. Bella gets Angela a bottle of water from the fridge, and when Ben helps her upstairs, Bella collapses on the couch with her head in my lap. Facing my crotch.

"You have a good time?" I ask as I stroke her hair.

Bella opens her eyes. "Oh, hello," she says, and pats my dick through my jeans. Bella's always handsy when she's drunk, but she isn't always in the mood to follow through, so Eduardo and I are cautiously optimistic. He starts getting himself ready just in case.

"How was your party?" She asks.

"Less fun than yours, I think. We forgot to pick up Ben's vagina hat."

"That's a shame," she snickers. She sits up on her knees and swings a leg over my lap, then sits down right where I want her. Eduardo's hopes are rising. She kisses me, wet and deep, and presses against me. "It's not a party without a vagina hat," she says when she sits back.

I pull back and look at her. "Is that…supposed to be dirty talk?"

She blushes, then covers her face with her hands. "Sorry. Too much tequila," she mutters through her hands. "Let me make it up to you," she says when she pulls her hands away, and they go straight for my belt.

"Should we, uh, go upstairs?" I ask as her hand slides into my pants. When it wraps around me, she leans forward and licks my neck.

"You don't want to stay here?" She whispers in my ear. "I think you do."

It's true, I'm a bit of an exhibitionist. Bella called me on it after we fucked at a highway rest stop for the second time. Bella goes along as long as it's dark and no one can see her face, but she gets creeped out if the dogs are watching. I can't believe she'd risk one of her friends walking in.

"What about Ben and Angela?" I ask as she pulls off her sweater. Goddamn it, I love her body.

"I think they're busy," she says, and gets up off my lap. I hold her steady while she pulls off her tights and underwear.

"You're sure?" I ask after she straddles me again.

"Do I seem hesitant?" She asks as she pulls my dick out my pants.

"God no," I pant. She rubs the head of my dick against her clit.

"Stop talking and fuck me," she murmurs as she guides me inside her.

"Yes maam." I pick her up around the hips and flip her on to her back, then push in fast. "Is that what you want?" I whisper in her ear.

"Yeeeess," she moans, and I clamp my hand over her mouth to quiet her.

"Shhhhh," I whisper. She licks my hand and grins saucily at me when I pull my hand away.

"Do it, Edward. Hard and fast," she whispers.

I give her what she wants. She wraps her legs around my hips and braces her hands on the arm of the sofa so she can push back on me while I fuck her. We do a pretty good job of keeping our grunts and moans quiet, but I can't do anything about the sound of our skin slapping together. When Bella's eyes close and her mouth drops open, I sit up on my knees so I can hit her deeper and watch her tits bounce when I thrust. Her body is my favorite place on earth. I want to stay here forever. But when her body clamps down and starts squeezing my dick, I can't hold back. I come so hard my whole body goes numb.

* * *

We're all a little worse for wear the next day, but Angela seems to be suffering the most. Unfortunately, she has to leave by mid-morning to head to the church. They're decorating the church today and then setting up for the rehearsal dinner later tonight. Bella and I offer to help, but with her entire extended family arriving in town today, the last thing she needs is more people. Bella and I go to the diner in town for a greasy lunch, and we return home to find a young, dark haired guy sitting on the front porch next to Samson.

"Well, here we go," Bella says, when she spots him.

"Jake?" I ask.

"Yep."

Jake stands up when we get out of Bella's truck. I drag my feet, but Bella drags hers more, so I'm the first to get up the steps.

"You must be Edward," he says, extending his hand.

"You must be Jacob," I say as I shake it. "Have you seen a little dachshund?"

"She stood up and barked at me when I let Sammy out, but she didn't want to come out."

"Hi Jake," Bella says as Jake hugs her. "How've you been?"

"Pretty good." He turns back to me. "I heard Leah went after you last night. Sorry about that."

"She 'went after you'?" Bella asks.

"It was a brief conversation," I explain. "She might have been trying to start something, but she didn't get very far. No big deal."

"Do you want to come inside, Jake?" Bella asks.

"Sure, if you guys don't mind. I know Angela's wedding is tomorrow. I can go if you're busy."

"We're the opposite of busy. Come on in."

When I step up the last step onto the front porch, I realize just how short Jake is. His muscles practically glisten every time he moves, and I'm not ashamed to admit I noticed, but he's about five inches shorter than me, and I'm not ashamed to admit I noticed that, either. Ask any dude – finding out you're taller that your girl's ex is the second best feeling in the world, after finding out your dick is bigger. (I have it on good authority I'm winning on that front too, thank you very much for asking.)

When Bella goes to the kitchen to get Jake some water, I follow as nonchalantly as possible.

"Do you want me to disappear for a while?" I whisper. "I could take the dogs on a walk."

"I think Jake wants to spend some time with Samson," she whispers back. "But if you're really uncomfortable, just tell him you have some work to do and go upstairs."

My curiosity, jealousy, and discomfort are all driving me in different directions, but I decide to stick around for the time being. Jake initially asks a bunch of innocuous questions, the same questions we've answered over and over about her life in New York. Bella asks Jake about his family and his job, and asks a couple delicate questions about Leah, which Jake answers delicately. Then he pauses and looks over at me.

"Are you happy there?" He asks, but I suspect "there" really means "with him." Bella knows it too, because she looks over at me and smiles.

"We fit together, without forcing it," Bella says.

"And we didn't?"

"You knew exactly where and what you wanted to be, Jake. I fit myself in to your life, because I loved you and I loved my dad. Maybe in an alternate universe, my dad lives for twenty more years and we have four kids and I retire from Forks High in forty years completely happy with every choice I've made. I know it wasn't fair to you to blow up our life together just because my dad died. I just couldn't be here anymore, Jake. Everything you love is still here. Everything I love is…not."

Jake looks away. "Not everything I love is here."

Bella wipes her eyes. "I'm sorry, Jake."

He sighs and rubs his eyes. "You don't have to feel bad anymore, Bella. Rachel's been talking to me. When my mom died, she ran away too. Coming here just makes her sad. She said she sees Mom everywhere she looks."

Bella's quiet for a minute. "When we got here, Samson was so excited. He raced in to the house. He's been depressed ever since."

"Poor Sammy." Jake bends down to pet him. "What are you going to do with the house?"

"I don't know."

"Well, let me know if you need help. Any time."

When Jake leaves, I know Bella wants a nap. She doesn't always sleep, but she likes to lie down when she has something to think over. We curl up in that ridiculous double bed.

"Coming here makes me sad," she says eventually.

"Do you want to sell the house?"

"I won't have a home, you know? I mean, you'll always have a place in Vermont, even after Rose and Emmett move into the big house. My mom turned my bedroom there into a fucking craft room. All my furniture is crammed into your guest room. This house is all I've got."

I scoot down in this stupid bed so I can look her in the eye. "I want to build you a home. We'll buy a house and make it exactly what you want. And if you get tired of New Jersey, I'll build you a home wherever you want to go next."

Bella tucks her head against my shoulder and I feel her tears on my neck.

"What about Ben and Ang?" She asks after a few moments. "I don't want to kick them out. I think they really like living here."

"You could offer to sell it to them, month by month. It's called seller financing. You set the terms, get an assessment, all the stuff you do when you sell a house. Instead of paying you rent, they buy the house from you over time."

"Really?" She asks. "That's a thing people do?"

"Sometimes. There are some problems that can arise, and it puts you in the position of lending money to friends, which you may not want to do. But it's a thing people do, especially in a tough real estate market."

She's quiet for a while.

"Just think about it. Talk to Rose when we get home. If she doesn't know much about it, she'll know someone who does. Maybe that real estate attorney Alice and Jasper used."

* * *

Angela and Ben's rehearsal dinner is huge – dozens, if not hundreds, of Webers and Cheneys, crowding around picnic tables in Tilicum Park. It's hard to believe they'll have more people at the wedding the next day, but somehow they do. Angela's got so many bridesmaids – two sisters and eight cousins – that they can't all fit on the altar. Ben's family is smaller, so a bunch of Angela's boy cousins were roped into being groomsmen. It's the reason why Bella isn't in the wedding, which I suspect secretly disappoints her a little, but good luck getting her to admit she wants to put on a pink dress and parade around in front of a huge audience.

The day after the wedding, we all depart Forks – Ben and Angela are heading to Orlando and the Wizarding World of Harry Potter, and Bella and I are heading south to Phoenix to visit her mom. Jake shows up to say goodbye before we leave, and I impress everyone with how casual and non-jealous I am about it. I impress myself, at least.

We drive down the highway through Oregon to see Crater Lake, then head to the coast and into northern California, where we spend the night among enormous trees and tiny bunnies in Redwood National Park. We drive down the coast past San Francisco, stopping to visit the aquarium in Monterey and Hearst Castle in San Simeon. We make a big circle around Los Angeles and stop at Joshua Tree on our way to Phoenix.

Bella's mom's house is a charming adobe bungalow. At least, it would be charming, if it weren't painted the brightest robin's egg blue I've ever seen. It practically glows. As we pull into the driveway, a woman I assume to be Renee comes running out in a yellow shirt and hot pink capri pants. I haven't even met her yet, and I can already tell that this woman doesn't have much in common with her daughter.

She's certainly excited to see her, though. She jumps up and down as she hugs Bella, while my girl stands there like her feet are encased in concrete. It makes me chuckle, but before I know it, Renee is hugging me and jumping up and down.

Renee pulls us into the house, and we put the dogs in the back yard while Renee shows us around the house. It's a two-bedroom house, but one of the bedrooms, as Bella promised, has been converted to a "crafts/giftwrap" room. I haven't seen a single present from Renee to Bella in the six months we've been together, but judging by the amount of giftwrap in the room, Renee must be Santa Claus.

We're picking up Renee's husband from work on the way to dinner, so Bella and I close up the RV and set up the dogs with their beds before we leave. Renee has one of those Volkswagen Beetle convertibles with the little vase in the dash and a backseat that simply was not built for a man over six feet tall. Renee asks us lots of questions about our road trip on the way to Phil's office, and then answers almost all of them herself, talking about all the trips she's been on. I think Bella can tell that I'm about to lose my mind, because she suggests I ride with Phil in his truck, rather than cramming all four of us into Renee's car. Thankfully, Phil is the most laid back person I've ever met. He asks me some questions on the way to the restaurant, but doesn't act allergic to silence.

"So, have you guys talked about getting married?" Renee asks, once we're seated at the restaurant and have ordered our dinners.

"We met six months ago, Mom. We're already living together. I think we're moving fast enough as it is."

"I'm not saying you have to get married tomorrow. People have long engagements these days. It's just good to know where you're headed."

"I don't know if I'm going to get this job, Mom. I don't know if I'm going to want to stay in New York. I don't know if I ever want to get married. I have no idea where I'm headed."

Renee sighs. "You're just like your dad. One bad breakup, and he swears off the entire institution of marriage."

I've heard Renee criticize Bella for being like her dad on the phone, and I know it drives Bella up a wall. I reach for Bella's hand under the table.

"I'm proud of Bella no matter what. Whether she ever decides she wants to get married or not, I'm lucky to be with her."

"That's wonderful, Edward. That's why you two should get married," Renee says while looking at Bella.

Bella sighs. "I'll keep that in mind, Mom."

Phil, my new favorite person, changes the subject, and Bella gets a breather while Renee interrogates me about my books and the publishing process. Unfortunately, Renee soon interjects to ask if I can help find Bella a job, and Bella gets to try to explain to her mom why she won't let me help her get a job with my publisher. Then Phil changes the subject again, and Bella finds herself explaining why she's visited my family three times in six months and she's only spending a week in Phoenix. I'm tempted to yell at Renee that it's because my family doesn't criticize every single decision Bella makes and every single thing she says, but I keep my mouth shut.

After dinner, Renee suggests we switch driving partners, so I'll ride with Renee and Bella will ride with Phil. My brain simply isn't working fast enough to come up with a reason why that's a bad idea, and Bella looks relieved, so I go along with it. Renee talks almost the whole way home, telling me what Bella's like and what Bella needs, and I make little sounds of agreement whenever she pauses. She gives me a hug when we get out of the car, and I think she believes we've been bonding.

Phil and Bella are already at home when we get there, and Renee takes us into the living room, pointing out the pull-out couch we'll be sleeping on. Renee warns us that she's up early to do yoga, but she promises to take her mat outside while we're visiting. Bella quickly grabs my hand and tells her mom we planned to sleep in the RV, since we're all set up out there. Renee says something about "privacy" and winks at us, and I get out of there as fast as I possibly can.

When I get back to the RV after walking the dogs, I find Bella curled up in bed with the lights off and the radio on. I climb in behind her and wrap my arms around her.

"Holy shit, Bella," I say, when she's quiet. She starts laughing. "I…do not understand."

"What?" She asks.

"How you two lived together for so long. You disagree about everything."

"I was a kid. A quiet kid. I kept my opinions to myself. I read a lot."

"She's really something."

"She's just one person. I don't know how _you_ dealt with your family, growing up. They're really something, too."

Can't argue with that.

"What are we going to do for the next six days?"

"She'll chill out the longer we're here. But I'll take her out and wear her out at the mall. We'll tell her you got some edits back and need to work, and you can watch Netflix all week, if you want."

I kiss her cheek. "You're my hero, Bella."

"At least you finally get your wish," she says.

"What wish?"

"To fuck in an RV in front of one of my parents' houses."

I shiver. "Bella, my dick withdrew into my abdomen the moment your mother said we need 'privacy' at winked at me. I don't think he'll be coming out until we leave the state."

As luck would have it, Renee has to show a house the next day, so Bella and I get to spend the day in the backyard, Bella tanning in her bikini and me sitting in the shade admiring Bella in her bikini. (Cullens don't tan well.) The minor league baseball team Phil manages has a game that night, and the cheap beer and noise at the game helps me ignore Renee as she explains to Bella why it's better to have kids when you're young.

On day three in Phoenix, Bella takes one for the team and takes her mom out shopping. If I had any doubts about how much Bella loves me, the fact that she volunteered to spend the day at the mall with her mom would put them to bed. I actually do have some emails from my editor, manager and lawyer to deal with, so we don't even have to lie to get me out of it. That night, we have take-out and watch a movie at home, and Renee does a decent impression of a relaxed human being. She only complains once about how similar Bella is to her father.

On day four, I wake up when someone smacks me on the chest.

"Edward."

"Mmmph."

"EDWARD."

"What."

"Andy emailed me."

"Mmm…. Andy from Baldwin?"

"Yep. They just posted an editor position in fiction. He says I have to come in for an interview, but I'm the top candidate."

I open my eyes and look at her excited face. "When do you need to be there?"

"I told him we're out of town, and he said they'd be willing to wait a week, maybe two, but not much longer."

"What if we told…people…we need to be home in a week?"

She smirks at me. "You wanna leave tomorrow?"

I grin back at her. "You read my mind."

"Let me go tell her while I'm excited so she'll be excited too."

Renee is surprisingly supportive when Bella tells her we need to leave early. As Bella explains to me, Renee does much better when she's responding to concrete plans. The more concrete the plans, the less room she has to spin in unexpected and counterproductive directions. Everyone is all smiles when we leave the next morning, but no one's smile is bigger than mine.

We take the route home that we originally planned, but we accelerate the trip a little. We head north to the Grand Canyon, then loop around the north rim into Utah so we can visit Zion and Bryce Canyon on the way to Moab and Arches National Park. We spend one night in the mountains in Colorado, where we actually see a family of bears (a sow and two cubs) and I refuse to let anyone, canine or human, leave the RV until we leave the park. We cram the rest of the trip into three solid days of driving, stopping in Missouri and Ohio on our way back to Hoboken.

On September 6th, Bella starts work as an editor at Baldwin Books, and I start shopping for a townhouse.

* * *

 _Thanks for reading, see you soon..._


	15. Epilogue: October 2018

_Hi everyone! Welcome to new readers, and thanks to all of you for your interest in these characters, who are very near and dear to my heart. Lots of words in this one, let's get to it._

* * *

I wake up early on a Friday morning when Edward climbs into bed, followed by the dogs.

"Mmphtimezit?"

"6:30." He cuddles up behind me.

"Good night?" I ask after a minute or two, as my mental faculties inch toward full sentences.

"Yeah, I finished that chapter I was working on and proofread it."

"Aren't you going to be tired for your meeting?"

"Nah, I'll come back and sleep for a few hours. It'll help me get back on your schedule tonight."

During the week, Edward and I operate on opposite schedules. He writes all night, wakes me up in the morning, makes breakfast while I get ready, and walks me down to the ferry terminal with the dogs. He goes home and sleeps, and wakes up in mid-afternoon to run on the treadmill, and then meets me at the ferry terminal with the dogs. We spend the evening together, and he starts writing when I go to bed. We both adjust our sleep schedules a little on weekends so we have more time together, but as weird as it may sound, I've gotten used to sleeping alone most of the time. Honestly, I could get used to anything as long as it happens on Edward's $10,000 king bed. And Edward really does get more done when he works at night.

Edward nudges me at 6:45, my designated must-get-out-of-bed-time, and I head into the shower.

"Are you sure you don't want to have lunch with Harry and Alex?" Edward asks when I sit down to the French toast he made. Harry and Alex are his manager and lawyer.

"I think it's best if I keep a reasonable distance. Minimize the conflicts of interest as best we can."

"It's weird that we're all pretending that this had nothing to do with you, when it has everything to do with you," Edward grumbles.

"Baldwin's a good company. You'll have a great editor. You might have gone with them regardless."

Edward just rolls his eyes.

Edward's deal with Paradigm ended when he published his fourth book, which happened this past summer. They pushed hard to keep him, but Paradigm's house is on fire and they are doing a terrible job of putting it out. For more than a year, Paradigm's been dealing with a discrimination suit filed by a few former employees, including Tanya, who was formerly the assistant to Edward's editor. Gender discrimination suits are notoriously difficult to win, but the plaintiffs documented enough appalling behavior on the part of Paradigm executives to generate a ton of negative press for Paradigm. Apparently, Edward's editor exchanged amateur video and photos of naked women – including Paradigm staff and interns, clearly taken in his office – with other employees, and he had exchanged emails with a senior executive referring to Tanya as "the blow job queen of the 19th floor." Since he gave Tanya access to his email, she walked out the door with copies when she quit.

Edward might have stuck with Paradigm regardless, if they hadn't overplayed their hand. Earlier this summer, the plaintiffs' attorneys decided to depose some of Paradigm's most well-known authors, and Edward was on their list. His deposition didn't have a ton of legal value – he could only confirm that he'd heard Jason say things that the plaintiffs had already documented – but his testimony would have drawn media attention to the case. It also would have embarrassed the hell out of him. Anyway, the week that the Edward's name appeared on the deposition list, Paradigm sent him a huge offer – as much for each of his future books as he earned for all four of the previous books. There wasn't an obvious quid pro quo – if Edward had agreed to the deal, he would have received the money regardless of what he said in the deposition – but every time he talked to Jason or anyone at Paradigm, they kept throwing in little comments about how they were "in this together" and had to "stick together."

Then Edward went on tour to support his new book and reporters started showing up in the big cities, asking questions about the lawsuit, so Paradigm sent a PR guy and lawyer to travel with him. They wanted Edward to run every single thing he said in public by them. I tried to travel as much as I could on weekends to meet him wherever he was, and he was angrier and more frustrated every time I saw him. I wanted him to leave Paradigm long before this, but I didn't want to add to the pressure he was under, so I kept most of my opinions to myself. (I did tell him, unequivocally, that he would be a fool to lie under oath, especially about anything they could verify independently.) Regardless, when Edward came home from the book tour, he turned down Paradigm's offer and started meeting with other publishers, including the one I work for. Baldwin's offer was good, but not the best, so Edward's meeting with them today to negotiate. As awkward as it might be to work for the company that publishes my boyfriend's books, I know Baldwin is a good company that will look after Edward, and he deserves it after eight years with Paradigm.

I keep an eye on the clock all day long. I have a couple of meetings and I go out to pick up lunch with one of my co-workers, but Edward's on my mind all day. By 2:30, when I know he's heading into his meeting, I'm hopelessly distracted. I spend an hour and a half cleaning out my email inbox and waiting to hear from him. Then I clean my office until I reek of Lemon Pledge.

At 4:27, my phone chirps: _"How's your day going?"_

"EDWARD!"

 _"TGIF, am I right?"_

"WHAT HAPPENED?"

 _"They're matching Sullivan's offer. I said yes."_

"THAT'S GREAT!" I send him some dancing lady emojis.

 _"Want to go out to celebrate?"_

"With Frick and Frack?" I assume Edward's lawyer and manager want to come.

 _"No, just us."_

"Could we do it tmrw? I exhausted myself thinking about your meeting all day. And you only slept for a few hrs."

 _"OK. See you at 7?"_

"Yes. Congratulations honey!"

When I look up from my phone, I spot one of the VPs striding toward my office through the glass partition that separates my tiny little office from cubical city.

"Isabelle, how are you?" That's about as close to my name as he gets, but he wouldn't even know my name if it weren't for Edward, so I don't sweat it.

"Good, Mr. Weiss, how are you?"

"That boyfriend of yours drives a hard bargain. Think you're ready for it?"

For what? Working for the same company? "I think we can handle it, sir."

"I hope so. It's a lot of responsibility. You and Susan get along well, right?"

"Sure, Susan's great." Susan is the mentor they matched me with three months into the job. I guess Susan is going to be his editor, which would be great for Edward. She doesn't put up with any bullshit, from authors or superiors.

"I'm going to have her work with you, make sure you know what you're getting into."

What I'm getting into? "What am I getting into?"

He smiles at me. "We'd be here all night if I got into it now. Go home and celebrate. Set up some time with Susan next week."

I email Susan as soon as Mr. Weiss leaves. I'm not going to turn down the opportunity to leave early, so I start packing up, but I'm going to drive myself crazy this weekend trying to decode that conversation. I text Edward to let him know I'm heading home early, but don't get a reply.

I get an email back from Susan when I'm waiting for the ferry that will take me across the river to Hoboken: "Congratulations, Bella! I just heard about Edward's deal. He did great for himself, and for you. You're going to do a great job! Call my assistant on Monday to schedule a lunch for us. We'll go over everything that's involved in working on a project like this. Don't worry, we'll get through it together!"

I email her back right away: "I'm going to be working on Edward's books?"

I don't hear back from her until I'm at home. "Steve agreed to make you his editor. You didn't hear?"

Uh, no. Why would they do that? I've been working for the company for two years. He's my boyfriend. Aren't they worried about conflicts of interest? What if we break up? What if I murder him when he gets home tonight?

I text Edward: "WHAT DID YOU DO?"

He gets back to me right away: _"I'm in an Uber, Lincoln Tunnel traffic. Pick you up?"_

"I'm already home. WHAT DID YOU DO?"

 _"Be home soon."_

I feed the dogs and let them out in the back yard while I wait for Edward to come home. Edward bought this townhouse about a year after we got together, claiming that we needed the space for the dogs. There was no denying that Edward's condo was a little cramped with all my furniture crammed in the guest room and my giant dog, but this four-story brownstone seemed excessive. There's an entire floor we don't use except when we have out-of-town visitors. But after a couple years of living in apartments, Samson and I both swooned when we saw the back yard. I guess we've become those obnoxious people you see on _House Hunters_ who pick a house for the sake of their dogs.

Edward finds me sitting at the table on the back patio when he comes home. He's wearing a charcoal suit that fits him like a glove, and I'm momentarily distracted from the argument we're about to have. He sits down across from me at the table.

"What did you hear?" He looks up at me from under his eyelashes like the sexy fucking manipulator that he is.

"Well, after you text me, Mr. Weiss comes into my office, all 'are you ready for this?' and 'it's a big responsibility!' and I'm just sitting there like an idiot. 'Sure, I'm ready,' 'we can handle it.' I'm completely confused, so I email Susan, and _she's_ the person to tell me that my boyfriend has negotiated a promotion for me. Apparently I'm your editor now?"

He does that smile/frown thing where half his mouth turns up and the other half turns down. "If you want it. We could tell them we talked about it and decided it was a bad idea."

"Sure, I can just walk into Mr. Weiss' office on Monday and tell him that we didn't really think it through before we used a multimillion dollar negotiation to secure me a promotion. That'll make Isabelle Stein look like a real professional."

Edward frowns. "Who's Isabelle Stein?"

"That's what he thinks my name is, Edward."

"Why don't you correct him?"

"I did. That's why he doesn't call me Irene anymore. The only reason he can pick me out of a lineup is because of you, so I leave it be."

Samson comes over to me with a tennis ball and I throw it so hard it ricochets off two of the tall wooden fences that wall in the yard.

"Tell me how it happened, Edward. Did you plan this out ahead of time? Did you think I would appreciate the fact that I didn't know about it beforehand? Did you run it by Harry and Alex first? Did none of the three of you think about the conflict of interest?"

He sighs. "I've thought about it for a while. Remember back in August, I asked if you'd want to do it?"

"Yeah, and I said it didn't matter because it would never happen."

"You didn't think it could happen. But it can. You already read all my stuff first, anyway. You give me more substantive feedback than Jason has in years. I trust you more than anyone."

"This isn't about my skills as an editor, Edward. It's about what we're going to do when Baldwin asks me to get you to do something you don't want to do, what that's going to do to our relationship. It's about what people are going to say about me on Monday, when they find out my boyfriend forced Baldwin to promote me. And more than anything, it's about why you thought it was okay to make this decision for me without talking to me about it first."

"Okay, first, we'll work it out. I trust your judgment, and I believe we can do anything together. Second, who cares what people say? You're the best editor I've had, the books will be great, and nothing any of your small-minded co-workers say will change that. And third, I didn't push the issue with you because I knew you would say no, and I knew you would say no for the wrong reasons."

I scoff. "If the words 'low self-esteem' come out of your mouth next, I'll break something." Edward raises his hands and shakes his head. "You know me so well that you know I would have said no, but you didn't anticipate how incredibly angry I would be if you did it without asking?"

"I didn't think you'd find out from someone else. I thought I could sell you on it once I knew it was possible."

I scoff so hard I start choking on my saliva. I'm just getting angrier the longer we talk, so I get up and take the outside stairs up to the kitchen. I get a glass of water and sit at the island in the kitchen, tapping out an upbeat response to Susan's last email on my phone. After a few minutes, Edward follows me inside with the dogs.

"Do you want to keep talking?" he asks.

"We've had this conversation before, Edward. It's my career. It's the only thing I have that isn't tied to you. It WAS the only thing I had that wasn't tied to you. My career, my dog, and a mom on the other side of the country who I don't get along with. That's all I've got. And God knows Samson would probably choose you and Alice over living alone with me. Your house, your family, and your books – that's my whole world. Without you, I'd have nothing."

"Without you, I'D have nothing," Edward says.

I shake my head. "That's sweet, Edward, but it's not true. You'd still have everything that matters."

He scowls at me. "That's not true. Bella, they're your family too. This house could be half yours. Everything I have, you should have half of. You're the one who doesn't want to get married. You can't refuse to take the things I want to give you and then blame me for the fact that you don't have them."

"I didn't want you to hand me a career, Edward. I wanted to earn it on my own."

He throws his arms up in the air. "I'm sorry I'm an in-demand author. I'm sorry I took a meeting with Baldwin – which you pushed for, by the way. I'm sorry your bosses want me so much they'd give me anything."

"That's good, Edward. Now say, 'I'm sorry I made decisions about your career without asking you.'"

He sits down on the barstool opposite me and sighs, running his hands through his hair. "I'm sorry, Bella."

I don't know what else to say. My anger is draining, leaving me sad and tired. I know he understands why I'm angry, but he probably still thinks he was right, and I just don't have the energy for that conversation. I get up and grab a package of Oreos out of the cupboard. "I'm tired. I'm going to bed."

When I wake up in the morning, Edward and the dogs aren't anywhere to be found, so I assume he's out walking them. I find a small stack of waffles in the warming oven, and I hope they're all for me because I finish them before Edward gets home. When he does, he joins me on the patio.

"Are we gonna be okay?" He asks.

"Do you understand why I'm mad?"

"I called Rose last night, and she yelled at me for a half hour, so I think I described it pretty accurately."

"Do you get it?"

"I get it. I shouldn't have made a decision like that without you."

Edward pulls a small blue box out of the pocket of his hoodie. Oh no.

"Edward—"

"Don't worry, Bella, it's not a ring. I have learned a few things over the past couple years…despite the evidence to the contrary."

Inside the box are beautiful earrings with sapphires and diamonds in an intricate, antiquey pattern, fancier than anything I'd ever buy for myself (and probably worth a month of my salary) but not so large I'd be nervous and uncomfortable wearing them.

"They're beautiful, Edward. Thank you." I eye him in his sweats. "Did you go out and buy these this morning?"

"At the all-night Tiffany's on the corner? No, I picked them up on the way home yesterday."

I can't help but smile at my clueless, well-intended boyfriend. "Aww, you really thought last night was going to go differently, didn't you?"

He smiles sheepishly. "I thought I could make a good case."

"Really? How would that work?"

"I'd say something like, 'you know, they said I could have any editor I wanted, including you.' And then I'd explain why it could be great for both of us."

"So you would have lied?"

He blushes. "A little."

"You're an idiot."

"Yeah, that was Rose's opinion, as well." He picks up the ribbon that was tied around the jewelry box and fiddles with it. "You can turn it down, if you want."

"No, I can't. I'd have to explain why, and then everyone at work would be talking about our relationship drama. I'd rather have people saying I fucked my way into a job than have them gossiping about the health of our relationship."

Edward winces. "Would they really say that?"

"Do you remember back when I first started working at Baldwin, I was close to a girl named Stephanie? You met her when you came in to take me to lunch one day." He shrugs. "I think she was the first person at Baldwin to know that we were dating. A couple weeks later, people I didn't know were approaching me in the bathroom, dropping by my office to ask if I was really dating Edward Masen. Mr. Weiss talked to me for the first time. Lots of people talked to me for the first time. Anyway, Steph changed my name to 'starfucker' in her address book. One day she sent an email to a whole bunch of us and her little nickname for me was right there in the CC line."

Edward glowers at me. "Why didn't you tell me about all that?"

I shrug. "I don't have any control over whether it happens. The only thing I can control is how much I care about it. It doesn't help me not care about it to have you scowling and grumping around about it."

"You should have reported it to HR."

I roll my eyes. "Yeah, that would have discouraged people from talking about me. It doesn't matter. Someone higher up must have found out about it, because Stephanie came in to my office all stiff and uptight one day and apologized."

"That's shitty, Bella. I'm sorry." I shrug. "I'm not in any way saying it's your fault I fucked up this whole editor thing, but if I had known about that, I might have handled it better."

I stare at him and he ducks his head.

"I might have."

* * *

A week later, we drive up to Vermont for Alice's wedding. Alice and Jasper were supposed to get married two years ago, but it turns out that buying, renovating and re-opening a restaurant is about ten times more complicated than anyone expected. They ended up sinking their wedding money into the renovations, and it's taken them two years to save up enough for the wedding and find time to put it together.

It's been a rough week. I don't think I'm still mad at Edward, but I haven't been able to spend very much time with him regardless. Since we're taking the upcoming week off, everything was even more intense at work, even without the well-wishers (and ostensible "well-wishers") stopping by my office with advice (and "advice"). Honestly, I feel much more confident about editing Edward's work than any other project I've worked on. The challenge is going to be managing the expectations and demands at Baldwin.

Rose and her kids are the first folks we see when we arrive at the Cullen compound in Vermont. Emily is two and a half, as opinionated as Rose and by all accounts as adept at getting into trouble as Emmett was when he was two. I've heard Carlisle and Esme call Emily "Emmett's little punishment" – never when Emily is within earshot, of course. Charlotte is three months old, incredibly sweet and calm – but as we all remind each other regularly, so was Emily when she was three months old.

With the arrival of Charlotte, Emmett and Rose are bursting apart the seams of their two-bedroom house, so they're getting ready to swap houses with Carlisle and Esme after the holidays. This will also be the last year the family sells Christmas trees in Hoboken. Alice and Jasper haven't been able to get away from the restaurant for the past two years, so Esme, Emmett, Rose and Emily have temporarily relocated to our house in Hoboken the past two Decembers to keep the business going, but running the lot has become too demanding on everyone's time. Rose and Esme haven't decided whether to shift back to selling their trees wholesale, or turn the Cullen farm into one of those chop-your-own-tree farms.

Rose grabs me as soon as we get out of the car, and hugs me as tightly as she can while holding Charlotte. Emily goes straight for Uncle Edward, who she adores. When Emily was first born, Edward fell in love with her immediately. He started talking about having kids, which surprised me completely, but he hasn't mentioned having kids since she started walking and talking and generally creating havoc everywhere she goes.

When Edward comes around to the passenger side of the car with Emily on his hip, Rose smacks him in the head and then gives him a one-armed hug.

"Made any decisions for Bella without asking her this week?" Rose asks Edward while I open the hatchback to let the dogs out. Alice eyes Emily suspiciously – pulling on dog ears and tails is one of Emily's favorite activities, and Alice is especially susceptible due to her size – and takes off behind Samson when he makes a quick break for the back yard. I follow the dogs around the house to keep an eye on them, leaving Rose and Edward to spar.

Emmett's cooking on the grill on the porch behind the big house, and he calls out when he sees me with the dogs.

"Bellasaurus Rex!" Samson charges up the stairs to the porch (and the food), so I pick up Alice and follow him.

"How's life in a house full of girls, Em?" I ask as I hug him.

"I don't get peed on every time I change a diaper, so for now, I consider myself lucky," he says. "Ask me again when the girls are old enough to date. How's life in a house full of Edward?"

"Eh, can't complain," I smile at him. Emmett tries to frown back, but even Emmett's frowns are happy.

"Honestly?" He asks. "Rose told me he's been extra douchey lately."

I shrug. "He got me a big promotion, Em. If I had known before he did it, he'd be my knight in shining armor."

"You're your knight in shining armor, Belihana."

"You're my favorite kind-of brother, Em."

He grins at me. "You're my favorite kind-of sister, Bellisima."

"How's the wedding stuff going?" I ask him.

Emmett rolls his eyes, and his whole head at the same time. "You're going to be hearing about the wedding for the next four days straight. Why start now?"

I grin at him. "That bad?"

"Worse. As much as I love my kids, I love them just a little bit more for giving Rose and I a great excuse for skipping tastings and fittings and meetings with the venue…And as much as I want you and Edward to get married, I hope I never hear the word 'venue' again after this week."

"What was your wedding like?"

"Changing the subject, eh? It was right here, in this backyard." Emmett waves with the spatula. "Pretty cool."

"That's it?" I ask, after waiting for him to elaborate.

"'Pretty cool' is the highest praise I can give a wedding, trust me," he says. "Hey, before Edward comes out here, how do you really feel about this work stuff?"

I shrug. "I'm nervous. Not about working with Edward – I've been pre-reading his stuff for years, and we've had plenty of arguments about story arcs and characters, so we can handle that. But I have no idea what it will be like to work on a project of this importance to my employer. My last book was dating advice for twenty-somethings using Tinder. Substantively, it was worth less than the paper it was printed on."

"You'll figure it out. It's good for your career, right? I mean, to have your first big project be Edward's book – that's gotta be a good way to break into the big leagues. You can only go up from here."

"Or I'll embarrass myself and wash out. Or the books will go downhill and everyone will say it's because Edward cared more about his sex life than his work."

"Nah. You'll do great, Bellanator."

The opening of the glass door between the house and the porch alerts us to the arrival of Edward, Rose, and the kids, and Carlisle, Esme, Alice and Jasper appear with them.

"We thought you and the dogs decided to run straight back to New Jersey," Rose says.

"Give the dogs a couple days to remember how much they enjoy being ridden by small people," I reply, as I hug the new arrivals. "Then we'll start hiding them in Edward's room."

The rest of the night, and all of Sunday and Monday, passes in a haze of wedding planning. Alice and Jasper are getting married at a nearby farm, which has several restored barns they rent out as event space. They're getting married on Wednesday afternoon, so they can close the restaurant for a night without missing out on weekend revenue. They'll have a rehearsal on Tuesday, and then a dinner at their restaurant Tuesday night they've invited everyone to attend. We spend Sunday putting together party favors and gift bags and doing a trial run of our hair and makeup for the ceremony, and we spend Monday morning at fittings and Monday afternoon at the barn they've rented.

Since the venue is closer to the Cullen farm than Alice and Jasper's condo, they come over for dinner on Monday night, but Alice conks out on the sofa ten minutes after we finish eating. Jasper fiddles on his phone for a few minutes, and then announces that he and I are going out for coffee with Rose. The three of us try to get together for brunch or drinks or something every time we're together. We call it Orphan Club, but I don't think the rest of the family knows about the name. I once heard Emmett call it "the what the fuck did I marry into club."

On the way to a diner in Hanover, I assume the purpose of this Orphan Club meeting is to give Jasper some breathing room from wedding planning. His mother and both sisters are arriving on Tuesday for the wedding, and I know he's nervous about having them on his home turf.

It turns out that this Orphan Club is all about me. Rose starts in as soon as we sit down at the diner.

"You and Edward are acting weird," she says. "Are you still fighting about the job?"

"We're not fighting at all. We haven't talked about it. I mean, we talk about work all the time, but we haven't talked about the fight since it happened."

"But you're not over it," Jasper says.

"I'm not mad at him," I say.

"Have you had sex since the fight?" Rose asks.

"Is that a barometer of some kind?" I ask. "I've been working like crazy, trying to adjust to my new job."

Rose narrows her eyes at me. "You're checking out."

"What do you mean?"

"You're checking out of the relationship. You haven't made any decisions yet, but you're pulling away."

I frown. "I don't think I am."

"I'm not criticizing, Bella, I'm really not. I know we're all acting like what Edward did was motivated by his generosity and love for you, but in not telling you about it, he also demonstrated a lack of trust in you and your judgment. I don't blame you for holding him at arm's length."

I haven't thought about it that way, but now that I am, I want to cry.

"Wow," I chuckle as best I can. "Are you trying to get us to break up?"

Rose and Jasper exchange a look. "We think you're going to drift apart, if you don't address this head on," Jasper says.

"Me?"

"Yep," Rose says. "Obviously, Edward's the one who fucked up, and I know you think he's the one with all the power in the relationship—"

"He DOES—"

"He really doesn't," Jasper interjects. "He's got the money and the fame, and I know that matters in a relationship, but you're the only one with the strength to walk away. You're the independent one. Edward would never be the same if he lost you."

"He's completely at your mercy," Rose adds. "Ever since the first time you kissed. Edward would do anything you ask, and the fact that you never ask for anything drives him absolutely crazy."

"You're saying this happened because I wouldn't let him buy me a car?"

"Just hear me out," Rose says. "Edward carries around an enormous amount of shame about the stuff that happened in his past. He'll never talk about it, but I think it's like a ball and chain he drags around everywhere. He doesn't think he deserves you – it's obvious every time we talk about you. The fact that you don't want to tie yourself to him permanently reinforces the way he feels about himself."

I stare at my slice of pie for a moment. "So this is because I don't want to get married?"

"I understand why you don't want to get married, Bella, I really do," Jasper says. "We've all got our issues with our parents, but yours…didn't handle their divorce well, and they fought their battles through you. After what happened with Jake, I don't blame you one bit for not wanting to get married."

"We're not trying to convince you to get married, Bella," Rose interjects. "But we want to keep you in our lives and in Edward's life. Edward fucked up, and it's his fault, but I think it will help you move forward if you understand that his fuck-ups are motivated by desperation."

"My feelings about marriage have very little to do with Edward," I say. "I don't think Edward is anything like either one of my parents. But _I'm_ like them. I already ran away from one man who wanted to marry me. What'll I do to Edward? Will I cheat on him, abandon my kid? Or will I become so self-involved that I can't see anyone else clearly?"

"You're not your parents," Jasper says. "None of us knew Charlie, but I can't picture you ever doing the things he did."

"And from what we've heard about Renee, which is A LOT," Rose shares another look with Jasper, "you're nothing like her. I think it's safe to assume that if you were anything like Renee, you and Edward wouldn't be together."

"Look, we all have our own bullshit," Jasper says. "We all fuck up. Treating yourself with kindness and forgiveness is as important as treating your partner with kindness and forgiveness when it comes to sustaining a relationship."

"You know what the best thing about marriage is?" Rose asks. "There's a person who knows you inside and out, and chose to tie themselves to you permanently. They believe in you more than you do. They love you more than you love yourself. Your parents will never see you clearly, because what they see in you is a reflection of their abilities as parents. But in Edward, you've got a person who believes you can do anything, and who just wants to be there with you when you do it," Rose says. "Do you feel that way about him?"

"I love him and believe in him, absolutely."

"But?" Jasper asks.

"Being up here has made me think about how our relationship started. You know we were fighting about the same stuff back then that we're fighting about now? He wanted to get me a job at Paradigm and I wouldn't let him. It just feels like we're going in circles. Three years later and the only thing that's changed is that he didn't ask me this time."

I look up from my pie and Jasper and Rose are both looking at me sadly.

"I can't explain that to you," Rose says. "But I hope you'll give him a chance to. Talk to him about all this. Don't just disappear."

I nod.

"We want to keep you, Bella. But no matter what happens with Edward, you'll always be part of Orphan Club," Jasper says.

"Thanks," I smile at him. "You know, I thought we were coming here to talk about you. Let you vent about getting married or whatever."

"Nah, I'm good," Jasper says. "Reopening the restaurant was stressful. Three years of talking about the wedding was stressful. I don't doubt that we'll have more challenges to face in the future, but finally being married will be a relief."

"You've never wondered if you were making the right decision?"

"Nah. We've been together five years. Our lives are so intertwined already. I made the decision to be with her a hundred times, in a hundred other decisions. Honestly, if Alice would've been happy with a City Hall wedding, we would've done it four years ago. All the anxiety and work is related to the wedding, not being married."

Edward's tired and grumpy when we get home Monday night, and I'm not ready to talk anyway, I think about what Rose and Jasper said while he sleeps. Tuesday is…chaotic. Alice and Jasper spend the morning at the restaurant, getting ready for the post-rehearsal dinner, so Alice sends Rose and me to the farm with Esme and a checklist of things to do. When Alice arrives at the farm after lunch, she hates everything we've done, so we do our best to help her "fix" it. We're still "fixing" things when the guys arrive with the pastor, so we forgo changing into the cute dresses Alice approved and go ahead with the rehearsal in our jeans and t-shirts and sweat.

We finally get dressed up in time for the rehearsal dinner, which is a huge event. I can't imagine the wedding reception itself will be much larger. I meet Jasper's mother and sisters, and they're friendly in that slightly domineering way Texans often are. I meet Carlisle's and Esme's extended family from Chicago, and they're friendly in that slightly domineering way Chicagoans often are. I lose track of Edward as the night goes on, so when the dinner starts to wind down, I go looking for him. I find him at a table on the patio with a bottle of scotch.

"Well, this feels familiar," I say as I sit down next to him.

He smiles at me and reaches for my hand. "I'm sorry you had to deal with this on top of everything going on at home," he says after we sit quietly for a few moments.

"I love your family, Edward. I love your house and your books and your tiny dog. I love you and our life together."

"But?"

"If you ever make a decision for me again and then try to tell me that you did it because I don't believe enough in myself, you'll see a Bella-shaped hole in the front door."

Edward swallows a sip of scotch. "I know."

"It's patronizing."

"I'm sorry."

"I'd like to never talk about my self-esteem ever again."

"Got it."

"And I think we should get married."

Edward's glass drops on the table with a thunk. He turns to face me.

"What?"

"I think we should get married."

His free hand goes into his hair. "Why?" He shakes his head. "I mean, why now?"

"I think, without meaning to, I've been punishing you for reasons that have nothing to do with you. I'm afraid of hurting you the way I hurt Jake, or the way my mom and dad hurt each other, and me. I'm going to worry about that for the rest of my life, but if you aren't worried about it, well, I trust you and believe in you. So if you trust me and believe in me, I'm going to trust your judgment. I'm going to try to believe that I'm the person you think I am."

"You are. I know who you are, and you make me so happy, Bella. I'm going to make you happy, too."

"You do, Edward. Well, most of the time."

"All the time, Bella. I'll make you happy all the time."

I smile at him. "Let's not go overboard, Edward. The man I fell in love with is a grumpy diva a good twenty percent of the time. I expect no less from my husband."

Edward lifts the hand he's holding and kisses it, then leans over and kisses me. When he sits back, he's got that big smile on his face that makes his eyes crinkle up. It's my favorite smile.

"When?" He asks.

"Will it offend you if I say I don't care?"

"Nope. I love how easy you are." I frown. "Low-maintenance. I love how low-maintenance you are."

"I don't want to do this," I wave behind me at the rehearsal party. "We don't have this many friends, anyway."

Edward makes a growly noise in his throat. "Friends are overrated."

I get out of my chair so I can sit on Edward's lap. "There's my grumpy diva."

Edward wraps one hand around my hip and rubs my leg with the other. "You know, we haven't had sex in ten days."

"Really? I hadn't noticed." I smirk at him as he slides his hand under my skirt.

"We could get out of here…beat everyone else home." Hidden by my skirt, he plays with the strap of my underwear where it covers my hip.

"You really think your sister wouldn't notice?" I ask.

"She'll kill me. You she likes." He slides his fingers down toward the promised land.

"She'll kill both of us, so she doesn't have an uneven number in the wedding party."

He chuckles throatily and looks up at me. "You think she'll notice if we go…get something from the car?"

"Something, hunh? It'll have to be fast," I say as I stand up.

"Yeah, that's not going to be a problem," Edward laughs.

When we get to Edward's car, I climb in the backseat and take off my shoes, underwear and cardigan while Edward takes off his jacket, climbs in behind me and starts undoing his pants. I climb on top of his lap and take over, reaching into his boxer briefs to pull his cock out. When I sink down on him, he moans and throws his head back against the headrest.

"Can I take off your dress?" He asks, staring at my chest through heavy-lidded eyes.

"Just the top," I say, as if it isn't obvious that's what he wants. I start to move over him as he unzips the back of my dress, pulls the top down, and unhooks my bra. His hands go straight to my tits as soon as they're exposed.

"So good," he moans. He moves his hands to my ass, and he guides me to move faster as he starts thrusting. "This okay?"

"Yes. Good. Go." I pant. I can feel how hard he is already, and I know this is going to be fast. After ten days, that's A-OK with me. I lean back against Edward's hands and the back of the passenger seat, which gives me enough room to slip my fingers between us to play with my clit. I have no leverage in this position, but Edward takes over, moving us together as thrusts harder.

"You okay?" He asks.

"My thighs are burning. Are you close?"

Edward leans forward, pressing up against me, and then I hear a click and feel the seat collapse behind me.

"That was…dexterous," I say after Edward lays me down on the seatback.

"You ain't seen nothing, baby," Edward grins at me as he leans over me and pushes back inside me. "Okay?"

"Yep." I spare a moment to hope that folks aren't wandering around the parking lot, but then Edward drives that thought from my brain. Bracing his arm on the seat behind me, Edward puts on his intense sex face and sets a furious pace. After a few thrusts, I reach up to brace myself against the dashboard to keep us from flying through the windshield. Just as Edward's about to come, he presses himself deep inside me, and the pressure on my clit pushes me over the edge.

As I lay there catching my breath, all I can think about is what would happen if Jasper's mother saw us, my tits bouncing and Edward's bare ass between my legs. Or came upon us now, with Edward's dick hanging out of his shirttails like a perverted Winnie the Pooh. When I start to laugh, Edward slides a hand up my leg.

"You okay?"

"What do you think the odds are that someone saw us?"

Edward moans. "Stop, baby, you're going to make my dick hard again."

"Like Jasper's mom—"

"Yeah, that's good, keep talking about Jasper's mom."

"I'm serious."

"We've been out here less than ten minutes. As loud as you are—" I roll my eyes and he grins at me "—the restaurant is louder."

We run into a few people in the parking lot on our way back into the party, but fortunately we're fully clothed and none of them are Jasper's mom.

After the chaos of Tuesday, I expect Wednesday to be worse, but it seems like Alice really did fix everything on Tuesday afternoon. The weather is beautiful, everything fits, everyone's on time. The wedding is perfect, and I'm so happy for Alice I can't even get mad about the fact that she expects me to walk steadily down a grassy aisle in three inch heels. Before he starts walking me down the aisle, I whisper to Edward that I won't marry him if he lets me fall, and thanks to my death grip on his arm, I stay upright. The wedding is perfect, and Alice is so happy afterwards that she doesn't even mind when I change into flats.

Last night, Edward and I agreed to keep our discussion of marriage quiet until we were officially engaged. (Then we fought about whether or not I need an engagement ring, and then I gave in, and then we had sex again.) Nonetheless, we must seem happier than we did previously, because Rose pulls me aside at the reception to find out how our talk went, and Emmett does the same with Edward. At the end of the night, Alice pulls Rose and me aside and thanks us for accommodating her "occasional bouts of bridezilla." As frustrating as it was at times, I'm glad Alice finally got the wedding she wanted.

We were planning on staying in Vermont until Sunday, so when I wake up Thursday to find Edward packing up our stuff, I'm confused.

"What's going on?" I ask him.

"Oh, you're up." He climbs on the bed and lies next to me on his stomach. "You remember when I promised not to make decisions without you?"

"Yes…"

"Can we start that next week?" He looks up at me from under his lashes, and it suddenly dawns on me, three years into our relationship, that Edward is not as oblivious to his effect on me as I assumed.

"What did you do?"

"I want to take you away for the weekend."

I look around his bedroom. "Aren't we already away for the weekend?"

"To Paris."

Oh. "We can start next week," I say, after a moment of shock.

Edward smirks at me. "Thanks baby."

I grin back at him. "Paris, really? Paris, France?"

"Yep."

I frown. "On such short notice? What about the dogs?"

"Paul can take them, I texted him last night. We have seats on an overnight flight tonight, so we'll have two full days and nights and we'll fly back Sunday afternoon. We'll make the most of it, I promise."

After a late breakfast with Carlisle, Esme, Emmett, Rose, and the girls, we load up the car and head back to Hoboken. After unpacking and repacking, Edward walks the dogs down the street to their temporary home with our neighbor Paul. I'm hoping their fondness for Paul (and his tendency to overfeed them) makes up for the anxiety they probably feel about all the upheaval.

I usually have trouble sleeping on planes, but then again, I usually travel in coach. I sleep soundly all the way to Paris under a cashmere blanket thanks to the first class tickets Edward bought. ("It's all they had left," Edward said. "We could have gone another time," I said, but he just shook his head and pulled me over to the first class check-in counter.) In Paris, I breathe a sigh of relief when our cab pulls up to a low-key looking hotel in a charming neighborhood. Then the bellman takes us to our room on the top floor and opens the door to a small balcony, and I realize I'm staring at the Eiffel Tower. Edward murmurs a few things to the bellman while I'm staring at the view.

"Edward—" I start when he comes up behind me and wraps his arms around me.

"We're here to officially get engaged, Bella. Please try to stop thinking about how much it costs," he murmurs in my ear.

I swallow my words and try to swallow my pride. "So what's the plan, Stan?"

"The bellman is sending up breakfast, and the rest is up to you. I want to buy you a ring. Other than that, we can do as much or as little as you want."

I turn around in his arms. "I want to go to the top of that," I point over my shoulder.

After devouring a basket of French pastries, Edward and I go to the top of Eiffel Tower, then go the Place Vendome, where the hotel concierge recommended a few jewelry stores. It takes a few stops, and a couple hours, to find a ring I love, a cushion-cut blue sapphire with small diamonds set in the white gold band. I do my best to restrain myself from translating when the saleslady tells Edward the price in French. (I fail.) Edward puts the ring in his pocket and smiles at me when we leave the store.

We walk a few blocks to the Tuileries, then go to the Louvre when we realize we're standing right next to it. I restrain myself from asking Edward if he still has the ring in his pocket every hundred yards, but it's hard. I don't want to pressure him into giving it to me; I figure, after three years of listening to my reasons for not getting married, he's earned some patience on my part. Really, I just want to be sure he didn't drop a $30,000 ring when he bought us bottles of water. Then I contemplate how I'm going to walk around Manhattan wearing a $30,000 ring without having an anxiety attack every day.

After a relatively quick five hour spin through the Louvre, we take a cab back to the hotel. I can't wait to get into bed, but when we get back to our hotel room, a table is set for two right in front of the balcony, which is lit up with candles, and the room is filled with flowers. I tear up as soon as I see it, but I'm blaming that on exhaustion, at least in part. A bellhop arrives a few minutes later with our dinner and a bottle of champagne. When we sit down at the table, Edward pulls the ring box out of his pocket and drops the ring into my champagne flute. I laugh and pull the ring out, and when I look up, Edward's on one knee next to the table.

"Bella, I'll love you forever. I promise to trust you, support you, and never make a decision without you." I smile at him. "Will you marry me?"

"Yes."

We spend the rest of the weekend in the room.

* * *

 _Thanks for reading! See you soon._


	16. Epilogue: October 2020

_Apologies for how long it took to get this chapter out. I lost a good-paying job a while back, and had to replace it with two low-paying jobs, which leaves very little time for writing._

 _Last time around, Edward finally got Bella a job, she got really mad about it, and they ended up getting engaged. In the two years since, they've gotten married and are living together in Hoboken. Bella's been working as his editor. This is Edward's POV. There's some tough stuff in this chapter that may be difficult for some of you to read. I feel obligated to put a warning here even though the warning gives away some of the plot, so if you'd rather read the chapter without any spoilers, skip the rest of this sentence: if you've had a miscarriage, you might find this chapter very emotional._

* * *

I'm working on an outline for the last _Cold Harbor_ book when I hear the shower turn on, and I look up to see the sky starting to lighten. I bookmark my work and shut down my computer, and I head to our bedroom when I hear the shower turn off. I climb into bed next to the dogs, who seem grumpy about all the early morning activity.

"Are you sure you want to go?" I ask Bella when she walks into the bedroom from the bathroom.

"Are we having this conversation again?" She asks as she pulls her clothes for the plane out of the closet. "There's a schedule to these things. If we're going to move forward with the TV show this year, we have to pull the trigger now. If we miss the window now, it'll be another year."

After talking to a bunch of film studios, producers and directors about turning my books into movies, Bella and I decided that we were more likely to end up with something we could be proud of if we went to TV. The film industry seems to be contracting endlessly around tentpole productions, most of which involve superheroes, aliens or monsters. Historical dramas are a long shot financially, even if they have a fan base. Everyone we met with was enthusiastic about the first movie, but there were no guarantees that we'd be able to get the second, third or fourth movie made. The TV industry, on the other hand, is constantly growing, and competition between networks, cable and streaming has blown the industry wide open. Bella's flying out to LA today to meet with the potential showrunner she's been working with and four networks they're considering.

"Who cares if it doesn't happen this year?" I ask when she finishes drying her hair.

"I do. I have to, because I'm your editor. You know the money is better if we can launch the show before the last book comes out."

"I don't care about the money, Bella. We have plenty of money."

"Caring about the money is my job, Edward. You aren't the only person I have an obligation to."

"You're the only person _I_ have an obligation to," I tell her.

"It's a week in LA, Edward. I'm not flying to the moon." She looks at me for the first time since she walked in the room. "Do you mind making me breakfast?"

"Fucking LA," I grumble as I leave the bedroom.

After we eat breakfast, we load her suitcase and the dogs into the car for a trip to Newark airport. When we drop her off, I'd swear she's sadder to say goodbye to the dogs than me. At home, I get into bed for a good day's sleep, waking up mid-afternoon to texts from Bella telling me she's landed in LA and made it to her hotel. I know she and Grace, her showrunner, are meeting this afternoon to prep for their meeting tomorrow with NBC, so I text her back to tell her to call me if she's up for it later tonight.

After dinner and a long walk with the dogs, I text Rose to see if she's free to talk tonight. I know Rose and Emmett engage in a civil war every night to get their three girls into bed, so I'm not surprised when I don't hear back for an hour and a half.

"What'd you do now?" She asks by way of greeting when I answer her on Facetime.

"I need some advice," I tell her.

"No kidding," she deadpans. "Edward, you only call me when you need advice."

"I call you plenty, not just when I need advice."

"No, Bella calls me plenty, and you lurk around in the background unless the girls ask for Uncle Edward. _You_ only call me when you fuck up with Bella." Note to self: never call Rose again. "Speaking of, where is Bella?"

"She's in LA. Flew out today for meetings with networks."

"Alone?"

"I hate LA. And the show is her thing. She found a showrunner, they wrote the pilot together. Whether it happens or not, it's completely in her hands. If she came home tomorrow and said she didn't want to talk about it ever again, I'd be perfectly happy."

Rose frowns at me. "Is that why she's pissed? Because you don't care about the show?"

"Forget about the show. And she's not pissed." I sigh. "Bella was pregnant."

"Oh!" Rose's face lights up, and then falls. "She was?"

"She had a miscarriage."

"Oh, Edward. I'm sorry. When?"

"Two weeks ago."

Rose's face turns into angry scowl in a moment. "She had a miscarriage two weeks ago and she's out in LA? ALONE?"

I sigh. "Her choice, Rose. I tried to talk her out of it. I told her to take time off every day until she stopped talking to me and looking at me. I tried."

Rose glares at me. "How far along was she?"

"Three months. Everything was going fine, but then we went in to see the doctor and it just…there was no heartbeat."

"That's heartbreaking. I'm so sorry." She looks at me sadly. "Why is Bella mad at you?"

"I don't know if she's mad, necessarily. I don't know much of anything, really. She's been talking to me less and less. I know she's sad, but she won't talk to me about it."

"I didn't even know you guys were trying."

"We weren't. It just happened. She had a sinus infection, she was taking antibiotics, we weren't careful enough about using protection…"

"Well, sure, there's nothing as sexy as a woman with a sinus infection."

I roll my eyes. "Rose…"

"How are you doing?"

"What do you mean?"

She rolls her eyes at me. "How do you _feeeel_ about losing the baby?"

I pet Alice for a moment while I think about what I want to say. "I was still adjusting to it. It wasn't even something that was on our radar until it happened. We have a talk, every few months or so, usually when someone we know gets pregnant or has a baby, and I've always agreed with Bella – no kids unless we're absolutely, positively sure it's what we both want. And neither of us has ever been anywhere close to sure. I mean, once it happened, I liked the idea – having a baby with Bella. She wanted to have it, and I was on board. But it's not like my whole world changed in an instant. I wasn't sure we were ready for it. And it wasn't real to me yet. All the books warn you that this can happen – we hadn't told anyone, hadn't talked about names, hadn't talked about the gender or the nursery or anything. We were kind of keeping it at arm's length."

"Well, you were."

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"How was the pregnancy for Bella? Did she have morning sickness, cramps, trouble sleeping?"

"She got nauseous a lot, all hours of the day. She went back and forth between being starving and being nauseous."

"I bet it was real to her."

"What do you mean?"

"Women are confronted with the reality of pregnancy before men are. Your body starts changing, almost immediately, and every day it does something to remind you you're pregnant. You may not have been thinking about the baby all the time, but I'd bet Bella thought about it all the time."

I think about that for a minute. "You think she's taking it harder than I am?"

"Well, since you don't seem sad about it at all, I think the odds are good."

"It's not a matter of being sad or not being sad—"

"It is for the person who's sad," Rose interjects.

"I was doing what the books say, Rose. I was being smart. I was totally supportive, from the moment she told me. I can't help it if I'm relieved our lives aren't drastically and forever changing in six months."

Rose sighs. "Have you and Bella talked about how you feel?"

"I didn't use the word _relieved_ , if that's what you're asking me. I'm not an idiot."

Rose scoffs. "You do a great impression," she mutters under her breath. "Hold on a sec," she tells me and then walks away from the screen. She returns half a minute later with Emmett.

"Hey Eddie," he says. "You fuck up with Bella?"

I roll my eyes. "Everything's fine, Em. Why are you here?"

Rose huffs and glares at me. "Bella had a miscarriage. Relate to your brother like a normal human, Emmett." She disappears again.

"Oh, man," Emmett says. "I'm sorry, Edward."

"It's fine, Em. I'm fine. Bella isn't, which is why I called _Rose_ to get some advice."

"You're fine? When did it happen? How far along was she?"

"It was a couple weeks ago. We went in for the three month ultrasound, but the baby was…gone."

"Oh man." Em looks like he's tearing up, which I haven't seen since we were kids and he fell out of a tree and broke his leg. "That must have been so rough."

"It was bad for Bella. They gave her some pills and she was in a lot of pain for a couple days."

"And you're fine?"

I shrug. "It's not about me, Em. It's about Bella. She's having a hard time, and she isn't talking to me about it."

"She probably isn't talking to you because you aren't being empathetic," Emmett says.

"Empathetic, Em? Really?"

"She wants to talk to someone who understands how she feels, asshole. And you apparently have no regrets when it comes to the death of your child."

"Jesus, Emmett, take it down a notch. I read the books. The books said this could happen. We were being cautious with our emotions, not getting too invested."

"Oh, well if that's what the books told you…" Emmett scoffs. "I read the books, too, idiot. We had three miscarriages before we had Emmy, and every single one of them broke my heart."

I'm quiet for a moment while I think about Rose and Emmett having three miscarriages. I try to remember how they were before they had Emily.

"I'm sorry Em, that must have been really hard. I didn't know."

Emmett looks down and doesn't respond for a minute. "You didn't feel, like, gutted, when they couldn't find a heartbeat?" He asks me, his voice breaking.

"I was disappointed, and I felt terrible for Bella. I still feel terrible for her. But I wasn't thinking of it as a baby, you know? It was still early. And it wasn't like it was something we planned for. It happened out of the blue. I was still adjusting to the fact that our lives were changing so dramatically. And then…they didn't."

"That sucks, dude." I shrug. "No, I mean, it sucks that you are so emotionally detached from what your wife is going through."

I sigh. "I'm _trying_ , Em. I've been trying to get her to talk to me. That's why I called _Rose_."

"I can't believe Bella doesn't want to talk to someone with so little emotional investment in their own children."

"Thanks, Em. That's really helpful. I can't believe I didn't call you instead."

"You suck, dude."

"WHERE IS ROSE? Did she move out in the past five minutes? Is there anyone in that house who will actually give me helpful advice?"

"She's talking to Bella."

I bury my face in my hands and groan. "This was such a fucking mistake."

"I'll tell her to call you when she's done."

"Great."

"Look, Edward, I really am sorry. I don't want to make you feel bad. I'm just surprised you don't already feel bad."

"I _do_ feel bad. I feel bad that I can't connect with Bella and make her feel better. And I feel really bad about calling you two assholes for advice."

Emmett sighs. "I'm sorry. It's just a hard to talk about miscarriages without getting emotional. For normal people." He glares at me, and I glare back.

"This has been helpful, Em. Thanks so much." I hang up on him before he replies.

While I wait to hear back from Rose, I take the dogs and a bottle of scotch into the back yard and pray that Bella doesn't hate me for telling Rose about the miscarriage.

"Sorry about that," Rose says when she calls me back.

"Don't worry about it. While you were talking to Bella I got a tattoo on my forehead that says, 'Never call Rose,' so it won't happen again."

"I'm going to go out to LA for a few days to see her," Rose says.

"Really? Is she okay? Is she mad at me for telling you?"

"I didn't tell her I knew, Edward. Give me a little credit. I just told her that you said she had been through some rough stuff lately, and you asked me reach out to her. So that's what I did."

"Did she tell you what happened?"

"Yeah."

"Is she mad at me?"

"She's not mad at you at all. She's just…lonely."

Shit. That sucks. I suck. Em's right.

"Don't worry. She'll be okay. You guys will be okay. Give me a couple days with her, and I'll give you a call when I have some time alone."

"Thanks Rose. I appreciate it. And…I'm sorry you had miscarriages before Emily. I had no idea."

She smiles sadly. "Miscarriages are really common, Edward. And you have every right to feel however you feel about it. Don't wallow too much over whatever Emmett said to you. There's no right way or wrong way to feel."

* * *

When Bella calls me later that night, she sounds happy that Rose is flying out, and she doesn't sound any more distant than she did before she left, so I'm relieved. After her meeting tomorrow with NBC, she has the weekend off before her next meeting on Monday, so she and Rose will get to spend a lot of time together. Bella apologizes to me for telling Rose about the miscarriage without asking me first, which makes me feel like shit, but I've felt like shit for a couple weeks now, and at least Bella has Rose to talk to now.

On Friday night, Bella calls me from the Uber she's taking to the airport to pick up Rose, and tells me about her meeting with NBC. They're trying to sell her on adding the show to a new family-oriented Sunday night line-up, but Bella and Grace are worried that NBC and CBS will end up pressuring them to sentimentalize the books, in contrast with FX, which they expect will pressure them in the opposite direction. Their last meeting in California is with Netflix, which is known for giving creators more freedom, but can't guarantee an audience for all their programming. Bella and Grace met with HBO in New York a few weeks ago, and I'm rooting for HBO, personally.

On Saturday, I wake up early (for me, before noon) so I can take the dogs up to Bear Mountain for a hike. On the way home, I get a text from Paul and Embry, a couple who live a few doors down from us, inviting me to come over for dinner. I like Paul and Embry, but we've never hung out without Bella, who they adore, so I have a feeling Bella set up a playdate for me. I don't mind. I don't even mind when they talk me into taking a trip to the outlet mall on Sunday. I've never been a big fan of shopping, but my wife hates it so stridently that I feel like I have to take the opportunity when I can. It's not until we're on our way back to Hoboken with a trunk full of new clothes that I realize this might be a Bella set-up, too. The only thing Bella hates more than shopping for herself is shopping for me. (Apparently I'm picky.)

Bella and Rose go out Saturday night, and I have a short phone conversation with drunk Bella and a short text conversation with drunk Rose before they go to bed. On Sunday they have dinner with Grace to prep for their meeting with FX on Monday, and they call me to get my take on some of the feedback they've received from FX so far. Rose texts me late on Sunday to tell me she'll call me when Bella goes to her meeting on Monday.

Rose looks tan and rested when she pops up on Facetime the next day. "How're you doing, honey?" She asks, tilting her head sympathetically.

I squint at her. "What's going on? You look like you're about to tell me my dog died. Is Bella divorcing me?"

She scowls at me, looking more like the Rose I know. "No, of course not. I just feel bad about how Emmett and I responded when you called last week. I'm trying to be nicer. Going over like gangbusters, obviously."

"I don't care if you're nice to me. How's Bella?"

"To be honest, Edward…." She sighs and I brace myself for the worst. "You and she are actually feeling pretty similar. She didn't feel ready either. She's relieved too, and she feels guilty about feeling relieved."

"But she could have talked to me about all that. I wasn't bluntly honest about how I felt, but she knew enough—"

"She's afraid you guys were making the same mistake her parents made. Getting pregnant accidentally, having a baby when neither of you were sure about it – that's what her parents did. Her greatest fear is turning into her parents."

I sigh and rub my face while I take a moment to think. "Why didn't she tell me this when we found out she was pregnant? If I'd known she was having doubts, I would have been more open about how I felt."

"She thought you _were_ being open, Edward," Rose says. "You are _terrible_ at hiding your feelings. It didn't even occur to her that you had doubts you weren't expressing. So when she lost the baby, and she could tell you were relieved, she felt even worse. It was one thing if you didn't want the baby. It was something else entirely if you didn't want it and you hid it from her."

I sigh again. "I was trying to be supportive."

Rose smiles at me. "I know. She knows that too. She isn't mad at you." Then she rolls her eyes. "Honestly, you could probably cheat on her and she'd find some way to blame her parents. Girl needs a therapist."

"She had one, when we first got together. Grief counseling. She didn't think she was getting much out of it, so she stopped after six months."

"Maybe you could get her to go to couples therapy."

"You really think we need that?"

"No. I just want someone to free Bella of the guilt she feels over her parents' mistakes. She needs to stop living their lives and just live her own."

"I know, believe me."

Rose gazes at me silently, long enough that I start to check for food on my sweater.

"Can I ask you a question?" She asks.

"If I said no, would that stop you?"

Predictably, she ignores me. "How do you feel about that situation with Lauryn?"

"Lauryn? That girl from LA?"

"Yeah. We haven't talked about her in years. What do you think happened to her?"

I shrug. "Who knows. Who cares?"

"You don't care? If she was pregnant with your baby and lost it, or if she was never pregnant at all? It doesn't make any difference to you?"

"Unless I have a son or daughter out there that I don't know about, does it matter?" I think for a minute about what that would be like. They'd be six or seven now, I think.

"You don't," Rose says firmly, and I look up at the screen. "At least, not with Lauryn."

"You know that for sure?"

"You pay me to look after your money, Edward. That girl was after your money. So I keep an eye on that girl."

I scoff. "Who are you, Don Corleone? What does that mean?"

"It's not like I've had someone tailing her for the past seven years. I just, uh, follow her on Facebook, and I run a background check on her every now and then."

"That's a little bit nuts," I say.

" _She's_ a little bit nuts," Rose says.

"So, she, uh, doesn't have a six or seven year old?"

"No. She has a five year old." I look up at the screen alarmed. "Calm down, Edward. Unless she has the gestational period of an elephant, the kid isn't yours."

I wrap my arms around my head and groan. "Then why are we talking about this?"

Rose sighs. "The way you feel about what happened with Lauryn is weird. The way you feel about Bella's miscarriage is weird. Bella was carrying your baby, and Lauryn could have been, and you're just very…nonchalant. Are you actually indifferent about whether or not you have kids?"

"If I ever have kids, I won't be indifferent towards them. But you aren't talking about actual kids. You're talking about potential kids. I can't form an emotional bond with something I can't see, feel, touch, or talk to. I know other people do. It's just not how I'm built."

Rose purses her lips. "I think you'd feel differently, if you had never gone through all that with Lauryn. If your first experience with pregnancy had been with Bella…"

I shrug. "Maybe. We'll never know."

"But if you don't feel emotional about the possibility of having kids…you'll never want to have them."

I shrug again. "Maybe I won't. Look, I know this sounds cold to you. I know, when you have Emily and Charlotte and Elizabeth at home, it's impossible to believe that someone could _not_ want to have Emmy and Cherry and Lizzy at home, but we're not all built the same. If Bella and I never have kids, we'll be just fine."

Rose shakes her head. "I know that. I'm not worried about that. I'm worried about what happens if Bella decides she wants them and you don't."

I think about that for a moment. "I can't speak definitively about a hypothetical, but we'd probably have kids. What I want more than anything else is to make Bella happy."

Rose nods. "Ironically, I think that's what she's most afraid of. That you'd have kids you don't want just to make her happy."

I throw my hands up in the air. "Well, what am I supposed to do? Apparently, the only right answer is for me to put my foot down and say, 'no kids.' Should I talk to Bella before I get a vasectomy, or just go ahead with the surgery while she's in California?"

Rose rolls her eyes. "You're such a drama queen sometimes. Just be honest with her. You don't hold back any other opinion you have. If ever there's a topic that deserves brutal honesty, it's this one."

Later that night, Bella gives me a call on the way back to the hotel from her meeting with FX. Rose is flying home on Tuesday, so they're going out to dinner at some trendy West Hollywood restaurant where they film a reality show. I ask Bella how things are going with Rose, trying to open the door in case she wants to talk about anything they've discussed, but Bella just talks about how happy and relaxed Rose is. I'm not sure how to start the conversation about what Rose has told me, or even if I should.

I can't sleep Monday night. I keep thinking about Lauryn and Bella's pregnancies. I felt differently about Bella's, obviously. I mean, I didn't wish I was dead when Bella told me she was pregnant, so that's a big difference. But when I separate how I felt about the women from how I felt about the babies, I start to feel like maybe Rose is right about there being something wrong with me. You should feel differently when you make a baby with the woman you love, right? Emmett and Alice have called me a cold asshole most of my life, but it rolls right off my back because they're obnoxious sociopaths. Just this once, I wonder if Emmett and Alice are right. Don't tell them I said that.

While out with the dogs on Tuesday, I make up my mind. I text Rose and ask her to let me know when she has a few minutes to talk. I hear back from her later that night, after she gets home from the airport.

"I want to know what happened with Lauryn," I say when she calls.

"Are…you…really?" She stammers.

"I don't know if it will change how I feel about having kids, but it's weird, right? It's weird that I don't know what happened. I should know."

Rose is quiet for a moment. "I think that's a good idea," she finally says.

"So you've been stalking her, right? Can you give me her number?"

"It's not like I have her number in my phone. Anyway, it's better if I reach out to her. Just in case she's mad or vindictive or whatever, I don't want her to have your contact information. I'll let you know if she's receptive."

Rose texts me on Wednesday afternoon to let me know that Lauryn is living in San Diego and she's willing to talk to me, and I know it's time to have a conversation with Bella. Wednesday is Bella's meeting with CBS, so she calls me after Grace drops her off at her hotel. After we finish talking about the meeting, I take a deep breath.

"I need to tell you something," I start. Bella's looking at me like a deer in headlights. "I've been talking to Rose about the miscarriage…about how I feel."

She lets out her breath. "I have too."

"It's not that I didn't want to talk to you about it – I did. I do. I just don't want to say the wrong thing."

She smiles sadly. "I get it. You don't have to explain."

"When we're back in the same place, I want to talk to you about how I feel, and I want to talk about how you feel. And we should say everything, you know? Even the stuff that we think will hurt the other person."

She smiles a little more warmly. "Okay."

"But, look – one of the things we've been talking about is Lauryn, that girl I may or may not have knocked up in LA in 2012."

Bella frowns. "Oh – kay?"

"It's weird, right? It's weird that I don't know what happened, that I never found out. And Rose brought it up because she thinks it affects how I feel about having kids. I don't know if she's right or not, but I agree that it's weird. Right?"

"It is indeed weird." Bella gives me the crooked smile that shows up whenever she humors me.

"And I don't want it getting in the way of my relationship with you. So, Rose contacted Lauryn, and she's willing to talk to me. She's living in San Diego. I can give her a call, but I thought, maybe, I could fly out there and we could go see her together. If you want to. I mean, if you don't mind—"

"I want to."

"Good. Okay. So I'm going to have Rose ask her if this weekend is okay, and then we'll see about travel, okay? We can change your flight, and extend the hotel reservation, and I'll ask Paul to watch the dogs, and I'll rent a car so we can drive down—"

"Edward. Take a breath." I do. "Get in touch with Rose, and I'll call the front desk. The rest we can figure out when we know for sure."

"Okay."

"Let me know when you hear back from Rose, okay?" She's smiling at me, but she looks a little tearful.

"Are you okay?" I ask her.

She smiles wider, but she's definitely tearing up. "I'm proud of you," she says.

"Really? I haven't done anything. Except maybe impregnate a girl I barely knew in a coke- and whiskey-fueled shame spiral—"

"Edward," she interrupts. "You're trying to make things better. For us. I appreciate it."

I look at her on my iPad screen. She's so beautiful and so sad, it makes my chest hurt. "I am trying," I tell her.

* * *

I arrive in Los Angeles mid-day Friday, around the time Bella and Grace are meeting with Netflix. After I pick up a rental car, I drive to Bella's hotel in Santa Monica and grab lunch while I wait for them to get there. Bella and Grace are supposed to spend the afternoon debriefing about their meetings and making a decision about the TV show. I feel bad about inserting myself in their meeting, but as Bella reminded me when I told her that, it's my book they're adapting.

About an hour after Bella and Grace get to the hotel, it becomes apparent to me that I'm not helping them make a decision. Beyond being co-creator and executive producer, Bella very much wants to be involved in writing the show, which will free up Grace to focus on production. If the show takes off, Bella is planning on leaving her job with Baldwin after my last book is published so she can work on the show full-time. The problem is, most shows are written in LA, and because most shows are written here, most TV writers live here, and I very much do not want to live here. HBO is the only network that didn't immediately refuse when Bella asked if they could have the show's writers' room in New York City, so if Bella and Grace go with any network other than HBO, Bella and I will have some things to discuss.

When it becomes obvious that my singleminded interest in HBO is slowing them down, I decide to go for a run on the beach. The beach is the one thing about LA that I can't say anything bad about. East Coast beaches are cold, rocky cesspools compared to California beaches. After a long run and a brief dip in the ocean, I head back to the hotel, where I spot Bella and Grace in the same spot in the lobby, still talking, so I head upstairs for a shower. When I finish, I find Bella sitting on the balcony, watching the sun sink toward the horizon.

"So what's the verdict?" I ask as I sit on the chaise next to hers.

"We haven't made a final decision yet," she says. "We've got two leading candidates. We're going to take the weekend to think it over and talk again after we get home on Monday."

"Is HBO—"

"HBO is one of the candidates, yes." She smiles at me. "It'll either be HBO or Netflix."

"Are you and Grace sick of me?"

" _I_ could never be sick of you," she says as she reaches over and takes my hand.

"And Grace?"

" _I_ could never be sick of you," she repeats and grins at me.

"Are you ready for tomorrow?" I ask after we watch the sun descend in silence for a few minutes.

"Does it matter?"

"If you don't want to go—"

"I want to go," she interjects. "I don't mean to be Debbie Downer about it. I'm glad we're going. I'm just nervous."

"I am too." Really nervous. "Do you want to talk about the baby?"

She sighs. "I'm exhausted. Can we do all the heavy stuff tomorrow? Just order room service and watch TV tonight?"

"You got it." I tug on her hand and get her to move over to my chaise.

On Saturday morning, Bella and I head down to San Diego to meet Lauryn. We pass a couple of hours quietly, as I relive my miserable, debauched LA summer in my head. We get to the coffee shop in San Diego about twenty minutes early, so we sit in the car for a few minutes while Bella scratches the back of my head. It's relaxing, and I don't care if it makes me look like a cat. I'd purr if I could.

Inside the coffee shop, I grab a table in a quiet corner while Bella gets us a couple drinks. I don't feel like putting anything in my stomach at the moment, but I'm happy to have something to fidget with. Rose sent me a current picture of Lauryn from her Facebook account so I'll recognize her when she walks in, but I'm not focused enough to be watching the door. All of a sudden, Lauryn is just standing at the head of our table.

Bella stands up and shakes Lauryn's hand like a normal human being while I just stare at her like a moron. The last time I saw Lauryn, we met in a lawyer's office to talk about paternity tests, custody and child support agreements. A week later, she called the lawyer and told him she had lost the baby. Back then, Lauryn was a stereotypically gorgeous California girl with blonde hair, blue eyes, and an incredible body. Eight years later, she's still gorgeous, but her makeup and her smile both seem more natural.

"Thank you for agreeing to talk to us," I say as she sits down. Thanks to Rose's creepy online surveillance, I know Lauryn is married and has a son, but I still can't help fixating on her wedding ring when she sits down.

"I'm happy to," she says. "I'm sorry I couldn't face you back then. I was…in a really bad place."

I nod. "I know the feeling."

She smiles ruefully at me and then takes a deep breath. "Okay. What do you want to know?"

"Back then…were you actually pregnant?"

"Yes."

"Was it mine?"

"No."

"You're sure?"

She looks out the window. "I was pregnant when I met you. I was dating this dirtbag actor – well, waiter, really. We were so broke." She looks back at me. "He thought we could make some money…" She shakes her head.

"Was it a short term thing? We were going to do a paternity test. We would have figured it out."

"He thought you'd feel bad at some point and offer to help with medical expenses or something. And he, uh, was trying to think of a way to falsify paternity results. Find a shady doctor or something." She shakes her head and chuckles sadly. "He wasn't very smart. Or nice."

"I didn't even have any money, you know. Rose kept telling me it was a con, and I couldn't figure out why you'd pick me. I had one book out, and I was strung out on coke. Why would you pick me?"

"Well, we were running out of time. I was coming up on two months pregnant. I tried…with some other guys. But they always had friends around, or managers." She looks down at the table. "They were, uh, more cautious about sex. And you had lots of stuff – car service, a room at the SLS. John googled you and found a couple articles about you meeting with studios about making a movie. Even if you were a mess, we thought you had to have access to resources…" She shakes her head again.

"What happened to the baby?"

"I had a miscarriage."

"I'm sorry you went through that," Bella says to her, after we sit silently for a moment. I feel her rest her hand on my thigh, so I reach under the table to take her hand.

"Don't be," Lauryn says, shaking her head. "I mean, it's nice of you to say that, but I think it was the best possible outcome for everyone. That poor baby…." She looks back out the window. "He would have had the worst parents. I wasn't in any shape to be a mom." She scowls. "And John will never be in any shape to be a dad."

Bella clears her throat. "Rose said you have a son?"

Lauryn smiles. "Yeah, his name's Seth. He's five." Her smile widens. "Well, five and three quarters, he'd want me to tell you that. Do you guys have kids?"

I squeeze Bella's hand under the table. "No."

"We had a miscarriage not too long ago," Bella says. I turn to her, surprised she'd say anything, and I'm even more surprised when Lauryn reaches across the table to squeeze Bella's arm.

"I'm so sorry," Lauryn says. "It gets better, I promise."

Bella looks down at the table. "That, uh, thing you said, about how your miscarriage was the best outcome…." She swallows.

Lauryn releases Bella's hand and smiles at her. "That's years of therapy talking. I was relieved when I had the miscarriage, relieved to be able to walk away from John, relieved to end the deception with Edward...but then you feel so guilty for being relieved." Lauryn shakes her head. "It's such a mindfuck, having a miscarriage. You're not supposed to feel anything but sad, but an appropriate amount of sad, you know? Keep it to yourself, don't grieve too much, don't grieve too little. The best thing you'll ever do is learn how to forgive yourself."

Lauryn turns to me. "I want you to know how sorry I am, Edward. You did nothing to deserve what we did to you. I knew you were having a hard time, and if I contributed to making it worse, I'm so sorry for that."

I take a drink of the now-cold coffee in front of me. "I think it actually made things better, you know. I hadn't been using for very long... You being pregnant scared the crap out of me. It prompted me to crawl out of the hole I was living in and reach out to someone who helped me get my head on straight. Who knows how much longer I would have stayed in that hole otherwise."

"I'm glad you're healthy, Edward. You're so talented. I hadn't read your book when we met, but I started reading them a couple years ago. I would have hated myself even more if I had derailed your career."

I nod, and think about what I should say. Should I tell Lauryn I forgive her? I want us both to be able to move on, but I'm not sure if I'm ready to forgive her.

After a moment, Bella clears her throat. "Thank you for meeting with us," she says to Lauryn. "We were nervous about it, so I can't imagine how nervous you must have been."

Lauryn smiles at her. "I was, but I'm so glad we did this. I've wanted to apologize for so long. I thought about sending a letter, but the only thing I could think of was to send it to your publisher, and I didn't want it falling into the wrong hands or anything."

Bella stands up, which prompts Lauryn to stand up, and they hug. I work very hard at not making a face. I'm not mad at her, but come on. I stand up behind Bella and extend a hand to Lauryn before she can try to hug me. I walk out behind Bella and Lauryn, and Bella gives me a hug as we watch Lauryn drive away.

"You want me to drive?" Bella asks when Lauryn is gone. I nod and hand over the car keys.

Bella's quiet most of the way back to LA, which I appreciate. I spend most of the trip thinking back to that summer eight years ago when I first met Lauryn, wading through hazy memories to try to figure out just how gullible I was. How easy a mark was I back then? I know I was young and messed up, but I like to think I'm smart and a decent judge of character.

When we get back to our hotel room, I lie down on the bed, and Bella curls up next to me. "How are you doing?" She asks.

"I feel like an idiot."

She rubs my chest. "You're one of the smartest people I know," she says.

I turn to face her. "Do you remember, that first Christmas in Vermont, I lectured you about your parents, and I told you that you can't be a good writer if you aren't good at reading people?"

She smiles and nods.

"I was a fucking moron, Bella."

She smiles and hugs me tighter. "You were young and unhappy, and you weren't thinking clearly. You were taken advantage of. It's not your fault."

When I don't respond, she asks, "Are you angry I told Lauryn about our miscarriage?"

I shake my head. "I was surprised. I mean, I wouldn't have told her. But if talking about it makes you feel better, you should talk about it."

"I was surprised by what she said – that she was glad it happened. I can't imagine saying that to someone I just met. I can't imagine saying that out loud."

I pull away a little so I can look her in the eyes. "I'm not glad we lost our baby. But I was relieved."

She smiles a little, but I can see her eyes well up. "I know. I was relieved too. We weren't ready. We might never be ready, but we definitely aren't ready now."

"I know we weren't ready, but Bella, I need you to know something. I love you so much. I adore you. I would adore any child we have together."

Bella nods, and her tears spill over.

"And you need to know this: you would have been such a fantastic mom. That baby would have been so lucky to be your baby."

Bella presses her head against my chest, and I feel her tears through my shirt. I rub her back as she cries.

After a minute, she sniffles and looks back up at me. "If that were true, don't you think I would have been happier? From day one?" She sniffles and rubs her eyes. "Babies deserve parents who want them, who think they're a blessing."

I nod, but I know we're not just talking about our baby. "I can't promise you that we would've been perfect parents. I mean, you would've been perfect, but who knows what I would have done to the poor kid." She gives me a watery smile. "But I know that there's a big difference between us doubting we're ready, and what your parents did to you."

I cup her face in my hands and make her lift her head to look at me. I want so much for her to hear me and believe me. "You are the kindest, most loving person I know. You have such a good heart. I don't know why your parents didn't see it, sweetheart. I'm sorry they didn't love you the way you deserved."

I wipe Bella's tears, and she presses her head against my chest again. We lay there together until her tears stop. After a while, she looks up at me.

"What do you want to do now?"

"What, like, for dinner? I'd kill for a good fish taco."

"After all this, how do you feel about having kids?"

I look over Bella's head at the Pacific Ocean beyond our balcony. "When I talked to Rose about the miscarriage, she said I was indifferent about having kids. I don't think indifferent is the right way to describe it." I look down at Bella. "What I want most out of life, the thing that's most important to me, is that we do it together. Wherever the road leads, I want us to walk it together. If you want to have kids, I want to have them too. If we don't have them, I will be just fine, as long as you are too." I rub her hip. "What do you want, Bella?"

"I want to work on the show."

I nod. "Okay."

"I know I'm too hard on myself. I do know that. But this one thing…I just can't fuck it up, Edward. If we have a kid, we have to do it right. I can't raise a kid who feels the way I do…" She shakes her head. "And the frustrating thing is, I don't know what my parents did wrong. I know they loved me, but something happened somewhere along the way that made it so hard for me to love myself. If I don't know what that is, how can I keep it from happening with our kids?"

"It wasn't one thing, Bella. Every time someone forgot to pick you up from school, and a security guard had to call three hours later to remind them, you learned that you weren't important. When you moved away and they got rid of all your stuff without asking you, you learned you weren't important. When you have kids, they don't get to come first every time. But you never came first. And the seriousness with which you approach this decision – I just can't imagine you wouldn't put your kids first. Above all else, your parents were so careless with your feelings. You aren't careless with anyone's feelings." Bella's quiet for a moment, rubbing a wet spot her tears left on my shirt. "But if you want to better understand what happened with your parents, it might be a good idea to talk to someone. Professionally."

Bella frowns. "I tried that."

"You tried it for a few months, and you hated your therapist so you stopped going. Let's find someone you like this time. We'll keep looking until we find them. You carry so much sadness, sweetheart. Give yourself a chance to let some it go."

Bella nods, just a little. "Okay."

"We're going to have to find a new therapist for me, anyway, when we move out here. Lord knows I'll need it."

Bella's red, swollen eyes flash to mine. "You're willing to move here?"

I sigh as dramatically as possible. "If I have to."

"Really?"

"I'm can't pretend to be excited about it. But I guess I feel…I've put up all these walls, based on a bunch of shitty decisions I made a long time ago. But maybe the walls aren't doing me any good. Maybe it's worth it to see what's behind the walls, you know? I dunno, this is a shitty metaphor. You would send this metaphor back for a re-write."

Bella smiles at me. "I get what you're saying." She wraps her arms around me and hugs me. "I think you're very brave, Edward."

"Well, the benefit of acting like a grumpy child most of the time is that when you don't, people think you're a fucking hero."

Bella laughs. "You're a good man, Edward."

"I love you, Bella."

* * *

 _Thanks for reading. I've got two more chapters in mind, so I hope to see you again soon. Happy Labor Day, internet friends, especially to those of you who will be laboring on Labor Day._


	17. Epilogue: May 2025

_Hello internet friends. Thanks for hanging in there with me. Last time around, Bella was working on developing Edward's books into a TV show. She had recently had a miscarriage, and in working through his feelings about that, Edward revisited some stuff from his past. This chapter takes place five years later. (I thought about trying to predict the future like the final season of_ Parks and Recreation _, but I had enough trouble getting this chapter done without thinking about flying cars, cell phone implants, and whatnot.) I hope you enjoy._

* * *

Aging sucks. Your boobs sag and start pointing in different directions, you have to work harder and harder to avoid putting on weight, and stretch marks appear whether you gain weight or lose it. They just appear, like fucking depressing magic. You let your husband talk you into a hike on a Saturday – a "short one" – and you can barely walk on Monday.

Of course, said husband just gets more and more attractive the older he gets. Edward always had beautiful bone structure, but over the past few years, the baby fat has melted away from his face, leaving a devastatingly handsome man. I get grey hair and I start looking like my Grandma Ruth. Edward gets grey hair and it just makes you want to sit on his face.

We're at a party in a section of the Hollywood Hills known as Trousdale, popular with young industry types with a taste for midcentury architecture and money to spend. As he always is at parties, Edward is surrounded by a group of admirers who are oblivious or indifferent to his total disdain for them. The more he frowns and glares, the more they want his attention. (In their defense, he is ridiculously sexy when he glares.)

I'll tell you a secret: Edward doesn't hate living in LA. He's not quite ready to admit it – talking about how much you hate living in LA is as _de rigueur_ as talking about how much you love living in New York, even when you're sharing a one-bedroom with three people, two mice and a cockroach colony – but we wouldn't have lasted five years in LA if he was miserable. And despite all the scowling he's doing right now, he's not miserable.

We ended up taking the _Cold Harbor_ show to HBO, which made Edward happy because he thought it meant we could stay in New York. But then I spent a week videoconferencing with Grace, my co-creator, and HBO development staff, who convinced me that we wouldn't be able to assemble a writing staff of the same caliber in New York. Naively, I hoped that Grace and I could write the show together, as we had the pilot, but Grace's hands were full with the production side of the show, and I simply didn't bring enough to the table. I didn't have enough experience writing for television to carry the show. I was good with character arcs and storyline, but not so good with pacing and staging and other stuff essential to a making a compelling show. So a week after Edward rejoiced over staying in New York, I had to ask him to move to LA. He wasn't happy about it, but since the move was initially temporary, I tried to convince him to think of it as a long vacation. In a place he hated.

Not knowing how the show would do, we held on to our house in New Jersey, and rented a place with a big yard and a pool in Laurel Canyon, a quiet section of the Hollywood Hills that was a short commute to my office in Studio City. Edward was working on the last book in his series, which he wrote in between trips to the beach with the dogs. He grumbled about traffic and the idiots at the Laurel Canyon dog park and the idiots at the Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf, but he also got to swim naked in our backyard and eat fish tacos almost every day, so he wasn't unhappy. In retrospect, it might have been a bigger adjustment for me than for Edward. The first time we went to a party and someone offered us molly, I had a panic attack and dragged Edward out of the party. On the way home, I apologized over and over again for making him move to LA while he laughed at me. As the straight-laced daughter of a small-town cop, I just didn't have a lot of experience with people offering me illegal substances. But Edward doesn't care if I act like a rube as long as my neuroses get him out of going to parties.

We spent ten months in LA working on the first season of the show. The show didn't pull huge ratings right off the bat, but it got good reviews and fans of the books loved it, so when HBO committed to the second season, we put the Hoboken house on the market and started looking for a place in LA to buy. I thought we'd end up in a place like our rental, a modest (for LA) bungalow, but Edward fell in love with an ultramodern glass box perched above the ocean in Pacific Palisades. The first time I saw the house, I momentarily forgot about my husband's exhibitionist tendencies and told Edward that everyone in Santa Monica would be able to watch us having sex through the floor-to-ceiling windows. He put in an offer that day. I think he still gets a semi every time we clean the windows.

Edward finished his last book while we were working on the second season, so we did a huge press tour while it was airing, augmenting Edward's regular appearances with big events in ten cities featuring the cast of the show. The tour built up a ton of excitement for the third season, which is when the show really took off. The third season earned us our first Emmy nominations. We just finished writing the fourth season last week, so Edward and I get to go on vacation for a couple months before we start work on the fifth season.

Tonight's party is at the home of HBO's president of programming. HBO's been very supportive of the show, and they pay us a truly obscene amount of money, so this is one party we couldn't avoid. I keep an eye on Edward's sexy glare throughout the night, but he seems to be holding his own despite the scowling, so eventually I leave him on his own when I spot Grace outside smoking at a fire pit.

"So where's Laura?" I ask, after we commiserate about some casting nonsense we've been dealing with. Laura is Grace's wife, and often accompanies her to events like these.

"Oh, uhhh…we're splitting up," she tells me. When my jaw drops, she nods. "We told the kids yesterday, but we haven't told many people yet, so if you could keep it to yourself, I'd appreciate it."

"But why?" I ask a little too loudly, and immediately regret it. "I'm sorry, I don't want to pry," I add quietly. "It's just that you guys are the last couple I'd ever expect to split up." Edward and I have spent a fair amount of time with Grace and Laura over the years – we even stayed in their pool house when we first came out here, when we were looking for our rental. I've never noticed any problems between them. I don't think I've ever seen them fight.

"A few weeks ago, I would have agreed with you. I guess Laura wouldn't have." Grace sighs and shrugs. "I dunno. We're not like we used to be. We're more friends than anything else these days. We've been together fifteen years. There's just not that much romance left. And I was fine with that. You know, I'm almost fifty, I'm working on the first truly successful show in my career, and I'm living with a woman who's a great mom and a good friend." Grace smiles sadly at me. "I didn't think my life could get better than that. But Laura's younger than me. The world hasn't beaten all the romantic idealism out of her yet. She thinks you should be in love with your wife."

I shake my head. "I'm so sorry, Grace. Is it…is the show part of the problem? We could ask HBO to push back next season a little, give you guys some time to decompress. Or bring in someone else to handle the day-to-day? Not that anyone could take your place...but if you wanted to take some time off, we could figure it out….She says, having no control over anything but the muffin selection in the writers' room."

Grace shakes her head. "I don't think it's the show. You spend a lot of time working on the show, right? We all do. Has it affected your relationship with Edward?"

"Well, there was that time at the beginning when I thought he would divorce me rather than move to LA…." Grace laughs. "But no, the show isn't a problem for us. Actually, our relationship is so much better now that I'm not his editor. Every disagreement we have now pales in comparison to the fights we used to have. But, you know, every relationship is different."

Grace is quiet for a moment. "I don't think it's about the show. But even if it were…is it terrible of me to say I don't think I could walk away?"

"From the show?"

Grace nods. "This might sound critical, and I don't mean it to – but you don't really know what it's like in this town, Bella. To be young and desperate, working three part time jobs and spending what little spare time you have working for free on your friends' little camcorder films in hopes that something will break. Running into one of your childhood heroes when you're working as a cater waiter and thinking it might be your shot, so you give him a script and he reports you to your boss and you go home with one less job and one less hero. I've been here for thirty years, and I finally feel successful. I'm so proud of our show. If 20-year-old me could see me now, with an Emmy nomination and a paid-off house and an IRA and college funds for three kids? Hell, I didn't have any of those things five years ago. Forty-year-old me would be impressed. If I knew for sure that walking away from the show would save my marriage, I would do it. But to walk from the show just for a _chance_? I can't do it."

"Have you guys talked about it?"

"A little. I asked her if she stopped loving me because I was away so much, and she said no. To be honest, I don't think she minds when I'm gone at all." I can hear tears in Grace's voice, so I reach over to give her a side-hug.

"I will never believe she doesn't love you. You guys are so kind to each other."

Grace leans over and kisses my cheek. "Thanks for saying that, but I don't think we're being very kind to each other right now."

"Look, I know I don't have a ton of sway with HBO, but I'm telling you, if there's anything we can do with the show that will help you, I will do my best to make it happen. Just…have the conversation with her. You have to at least ask. My God, do you remember what it's like to be single? Remember dating? It's fucking terrible."

Grace is laughing when Edward interrupts us, complaining about how I threw him to the wolves so I could cuddle with my BFF, and Grace and I make fun of him for using the term "BFF," and then Grace gives him the short version of what she's told me. After Edward apologizes and they hug, Grace heads back inside to look for "the unhappily married people," and Edward pulls me into the dark behind the pool house. He presses me up against a wall and gives me a slow, whiskey-flavored kiss.

"I missed you," he says when he pulls away.

"But you looked like you were having such a good time," I smirk at him.

He snorts, then scowls. "Hey, did you talk to a short, balding guy named Peter? He kind of looks like George Costanza from Seinfeld?"

I frown as I think. "I don't think so. Why?"

"He was talking to me about your tits." Looking down, he runs the tip of his finger over the top of my left breast, more exposed than usual in an Alexander McQueen bustier top.

I recoil. "What?"

"Yeah. He's a big fan of them." Edward's scowl deepens.

"Just, like, out of the blue? Did he know you're my husband?"

"Yeah. I think he thought it was a complement or something."

"They're not _your_ tits."

He looks up from my chest and smirks at me. "Well…" He bends his finger so he can slide the tip under my top, grazing the top of my nipple as he slides his finger back and forth. I raise an eyebrow at him.

"I mean, if anyone's going to take credit for them, it should be my mom."

"Whoa." Edward takes a step back and puts both hands in the air and I laugh at him. "You know, you could have just said you don't want to have sex. 'Edward, I don't want to sleep with you tonight.' Far less emotionally scarring than making me think about your mom while I'm touching your breast."

I grab Edward's hands and pull him back to me. "Sorry, I couldn't resist."

With a groan, Edward wraps his arms around me and does his best to shrink his six-foot frame so he can rest his head on my five-feet-high shoulder. "Try harder," he murmurs next to my ear. After a few moments, he puts his hands under my butt in order to pick me up and wrap my legs around his waist, pressing me against the wall.

"That's better," he smirks at me.

"Did talking to this Peter guy make you horny?"

"Talking to that asshole made me murderous. Looking at you in this outfit makes me horny." He ducks his head to kiss my shoulder.

"I'll have to let Felix know," I smirk back at him. Felix is my stylist, a lovely man who periodically delivers a rack of great clothes to my house, and occasionally shoes, bags, jewelry and underwear. (He's also the reason I know words like "Alexander McQueen bustier top.") I try on everything at home, and he comes back a week later to pick up anything I don't like. He also provides more intensive help with special events – basically anytime I have to stand on a red carpet next to my husband. I felt like the most spoiled, self-indulgent Hollywood asshole when I first started using him, but Felix has changed my life. He taught me how to walk in heels without looking like a newborn horse and showed me that I had been wearing the wrong bra size for twenty years. I'm still most comfortable in jeans, flats and lip balm, but at least people no longer assume I'm Edward's assistant or sister when we attend big events.

"Are you ready to go?" Edward asks as he fondles my butt.

"We have to say goodbye to some folks first, but yeah."

"Can we have sex in the car?"

I roll my eyes. "Unless our town car grew into a limo with a privacy screen in the past three hours, no." I gave Edward head on the way home from the Emmys last year, and now all he can think about is fucking in strangers' cars.

I know Edward wants to make out on the way home, but I'm still thinking about Grace and Laura, so I'm grateful when our chatty driver distracts him. The truth is that what's happening to Grace is one of my greatest fears: that I could be coasting through life, perfectly happy, with no idea that my partner is unhappy until the rug is pulled out from under me. I'd like to think that I know Edward well enough to tell the difference between the small irritations and the relationship-ending dealbreakers, but what if I don't see it until he walks out the door?

When we get home, our golden retrievers, Oliver and Ruby, greet us at the front door, and they trail us through the house as I seek out my bathrobe and Edward seeks out Alice, who's usually napping under the comforter in our bedroom. Samson passed away almost four years ago, at the ripe old age of eleven. Edward was up late one night writing, and Samson went to him, clearly in distress. He was conscious and moving okay, but his eyes were rolling around in his head. We took him to the all-night vet, who concluded that Samson most likely had a stroke and wouldn't be able to recover. He couldn't eat or drink or sleep, and he was in constant agitation. We had to put him to sleep.

Losing Samson broke my heart. He had been my best friend, my constant companion, for almost a decade. He was also one of my last ties to my dad. We had Samson cremated and took his ashes home to Forks to scatter them at the lake where he and my dad went fishing every weekend.

For a while, it was just us and Alice, and we enjoyed the freedom that comes with having a tiny dog. (Seriously, you can take a tiny dog anywhere, especially in southern California. The people who work at the supermarket around the corner know her by name and one of the guys at the deli feeds her provolone. There's a restaurant on the beach below our house that has a whole separate menu for dogs.) Then, when we were visiting Vermont a couple Christmases ago, Carlisle told us about Oliver and Ruby, who previously belonged to a one of their neighbors who had died suddenly. The dogs ended up in a shelter, but they were having trouble finding a home for them together, and when they were separated Ruby stopped eating and Olly acted out. We brought them home with us. It was a bit of a transition for Alice, who had gotten used to being an only dog, but Olly and Ruby adjusted pretty quickly to being bossed around by a tiny dictator.

After I undress and take off my makeup, I head to the backyard to find Edward lying on a chaise while the dogs sniff around for the best places to pee. I flip on the gas-powered fire pit on the patio and curl up next to Edward on his lounger. Edward reaches down to hitch my leg over his hip so he can rub my thigh.

"Did Olly try to jump in the pool yet?" I ask him. Oliver's a doofus who loves water. The fool could entertain himself for hours with a deep enough puddle. He's one of those dogs who will run headlong into a window when he sees a bird or a cat – a real problem when a quarter of the walls in your house are glass – and will run straight into the same spot five minutes later.

"Nope. Maybe it's too cold. Or he's waiting for you to distract me." He smirks and kisses me, sliding his hand up my thigh to my butt.

My chuckle breaks our kiss. "Who's distracting whom, Mr. Cullen?"

He digs his fingers into my butt just a little, then pulls me so I'm sitting on top of him. "Mmmm, Mr. Cullen. I like that. Wanna role play?" He grins up at me, but I know Edward's favorite roleplay is two people fucking in full view of the neighbors. (Fortunately for me – and Edward's exhibitionism – there's only one house up the hill from ours with a clear view of our backyard, and it belongs to a billionaire from Qatar who almost never visits.)

Edward unties my bathrobe, then slips his hand between my legs and rubs my clit. He frowns at me. "You're not into it?"

I laugh at his disappointed face. "We've barely begun, honey. You gotta do a little work first."

He smacks my thighs lightly. "Stand up." When I do, he stands up, pulls off his jacket, and tells me to lie down on the chaise. He kneels on the end of the chaise, claps his hands together, and then rubs them. "Alright. Let's do this," he grins at me.

I'm not a huge fan of oral sex – it's fine as foreplay, but tongues alone don't provide enough pressure to get me off. Edward says he likes giving head, but more than anything, Edward likes getting head, and feels guilty if he can't reciprocate. If I'm making it sound like getting oral sex from Edward Cullen is a chore, it's really, really not. It won't make me orgasm, but there's something deeply arousing about seeing Edward's face between my legs and feeling his tongue inside me.

Edward lifts one of my legs over his shoulder and pushes the other out of the way so I'm exposed to him. He starts with long, slow licks with the flat of his tongue, and then focuses the tip of his tongue on my clit while he slides a couple fingers inside me. After a little bit, he swaps his tongue and fingers so his thumb is rubbing my clit and his tongue is inside me. It doesn't take long until I'm aroused, and from the bulge in his pants and the hazy, unfocused look in his eyes when I tell him to stop, I know Edward is too. He pulls his sweater over his head as I undo his belt and push his pants and boxers down.

"Are you warm enough?" He asks as he leans over me and positions himself.

"C'mere," I tell him, grabbing a handful of butt to pull him closer. He pushes inside me with a moan and starts thrusting immediately. The chaise creaks below as we move together, but over the creaks and moans, I hear a dog bark and then the splash as Olly (I assume) lands in the pool.

"Fuck," Edward groans. "I hate that dog."

I huff out a laugh. "You adore that dog." Edward grunts. "He's gonna be so sad you aren't watching him."

"He needs – to learn – to pick – his fucking – moment," he forces out as he thrusts. "Are you close?" He pants.

I pat him on the butt. "Get up for one sec."

He pulls out and leans back, jerking himself as I reposition on the chaise so my back is to him. I lean over, bracing myself against the seatback. "Is this okay?" I look over my shoulder at him.

He stares at my butt and smirks as he plays with himself. "I'll make do."

He pushes back into me from behind, then braces one hand on the back of the chaise and wraps the other around me, slipping it between my legs. He rubs my clit as he starts thrusting, and out of nowhere, in spite of the carnality of what we're doing, I'm suddenly overwhelmed with tenderness, drowning in gratitude for my husband and how much he cares for and wants me. Before I met Edward, I didn't expect to find a love like this, because I didn't know it was a possibility. When I was younger, I thought it would be weak of me to let him fill my life the way he does. Maybe it would have been braver or more honorable for me to build my own life, a career separate from my husband. But I feel so much gratitude for our life together and all the amazing things I've been able to do with him that I don't have room for shame or regret. He shows me he loves me every day. I just hope I do the same for him.

Before I know it, a few tears have leaked out, and when I sniffle a little, Edward stops thrusting and pulls me close, peering at me over my shoulder. "Are you okay? You're crying."

"'S okay," I sniffle. "I'm happy. Happy tears. I promise."

He rubs my stomach and kisses my shoulder. "Let me guess – you've always hated the patio furniture and you're happy we're about to break this chair."

I chuckle tearfully. "You know it."

He pulls out and sits back. "Turn around. I want to see your face."

When I sit back down in Edward's lap, I feel bad about crying during sex – there's no better erection deflator – but Edward just holds me and looks at me thoughtfully. He wipes away my tears and pushes my hair out of my face.

"I'm so lucky I found you," he says, which makes me tear up again. I wrap my arms around him and pull him close. "You make me so happy, Bella."

"I'm lucky too," I choke out. "I'm sorry I ruined the sex," I sniffle, and he laughs. When I lean back, he kisses me, chastely but firmly, and then kisses me slower and more deeply. As we kiss, his flagging erection presses against my abdomen, and I press back against him, grinding a little. He moans into my mouth, and I pull away so I can wrap my hand around his cock. He watches my hand move up and down, and I watch him until he's hard again and ready to go. When I shift my weight, his attention snaps back to me, and he lifts me up so I can take him back inside me. With him sitting on the chaise and me wrapped around him, we writhe against each other without much rhythm for a moment.

"Lay me back down," I tell him when he starts moving more frantically against me. He lays me flat on the chaise, and I keep my legs wrapped around his hips as he picks up the pace. He thrusts hard a few times, and as his orgasm hits I pull him down on top of me, wanting him close. I don't come, but the tenderness I feel for him is almost as overpowering. I scratch my fingers through the hair on the back of his head as his breathing evens out. After a minute he shifts until we're laying side-by-side on the chaise, and he pulls my bathrobe off the ground to cover us.

"I'll make it up to you," he smiles at me after kissing me.

"I know you will." Edward is always considerate when it comes to orgasms.

He gazes at me for a moment. "I really, really love you, you know."

I start to tear up again. "I really, really love you too," I tell him. We cuddle until Olly climbs out of the pool and shakes himself off right next to us. He's an idiot, but he knows how to get our attention.

A week later, Edward and I are in Rome with the dogs. For the past couple years, we've used my hiatus from the show to travel, usually two or three destinations and ending with a couple weeks in Vermont. After a week in Rome, we're renting a car and driving around the Adriatic, stopping in Florence and Venice on the way to Croatia.

We're relaxing on the tiny balcony off our rented condo after a long day of sightseeing when Edward gets a text from his brother. He goes inside to Skype Emmett on his laptop, and when he hasn't come back out fifteen minutes later, I go to find him. They're still talking, but he waves me over, so I sit down next to him on the couch to wait for him to finish.

"My dad was in a car accident last night," he says as soon as he hangs up.

"What? Is he okay?"

"He's a little banged up. He fractured his ankle and his legs are all banged up from hitting the dash, so he'll be off his feet for a while. He lost consciousness, so they kept him in the hospital overnight for observation, but he's going home today."

"What happened?"

"They don't really know. I mean, he drove off the road and hit a tree, but he doesn't remember the accident, so they think he might have passed out before the accident. They're trying to figure out why that would have happened."

"Do they have any ideas?"

"They're checking to see if he could have had a small stroke, or if he has any heart problems. It's possible he just fell asleep, but that's—"

"That doesn't sound like Carlisle."

"Yeah."

"Has he been sick?"

"He had that cold when we talked to him a few weeks ago, but otherwise he's been fine. He's always been healthy for his age."

"Do you want to fly back?"

Edward sighs and rubs his eyes. "We'll be there in a few weeks. I'm not sure having a couple more people and dogs underfoot would do him any good, anyway. That's what Emmett said."

"Would you feel better if you were there?"

"I don't know. I don't want to be in the way." I sigh, because sometimes Emmett can be so oblivious to Edward's feelings. After twenty years with Rose, who keeps absolutely none of her feelings to herself, Emmett's emotional radar is more than a little rusty. He doesn't pick up on much unless you're yelling at him. Edward doesn't keep his feelings under wraps, but he rarely communicates his feelings by telling you about them.

"You should give your mom a call."

He nods. "Yeah. Emmett said she'll be at the hospital with Dad all day while he has some tests, so I'll text her and try to reach her tonight."

"Did Emmett say how she's doing?"

"He said she's fine, but you know how Emmett is. Everyone's always fine." Edward's mom was diagnosed with breast cancer a couple years ago. They caught it early and treated it successfully, but it took a toll on Esme. She's still the same wonderful woman, but she's frail, moving slower and tiring faster than she did before she got sick. When I first met Esme, she could have easily passed for ten years younger than she was. She aged all ten of those years, and then some, over six months of surgery and chemo.

I text Alice to see if she's free to talk, but when she calls me back, she doesn't seem to know much more than Emmett did. When Esme calls late that night, she doesn't know much more either – they've brought Carlisle home from the hospital, but they did a couple different tests and didn't come up with any reason why Carlisle would suddenly pass out, so he's got to go in for more tests and specialist consults next week. We offer to fly back to help, but Esme's Esme – she doesn't want to ruin our vacation. (Apparently, Carlisle didn't even want to tell us about the accident until we got there.) I'm worried about how well Esme's going to be able to take care of Carlisle in their two-story house with him unable to walk, but since Emmett lives thirty yards away, Esme won't budge.

Two weeks later, we arrive in Dubrovnik, Croatia. After an amazing week in Rome, we spent a few days in a country house in Tuscany, a few days in Florence, a few days in Venice, and a few days in Split, before reaching our last destination. We've booked a week here in a villa near the beach, but shortly after we arrive, we get a text from Esme.

"Hi kids!" She greets us when we connect with her on Skype. "How is Dubrovnik?"

"It's beautiful, Mom. You'd love it. What's up? How's Dad?"

Esme sighs. "Well, they think they've figured out why he passed out. Even if they haven't, they found something that needs to be fixed right away. He has an aortic valve that isn't functioning properly. It's slowing the flow of blood from his heart, which results in low blood pressure, which can cause him to pass out, or worse. He needs to have surgery."

"When?" I ask, after Edward is silent for a moment.

"As soon as possible. They can do the surgery here, but there's a cardiac institute in Boston with some of the best surgeons in the world. One of them has an opening next Thursday."

"That's the day we're supposed to fly back," I tell Edward, who's still quiet. I grab his hand and squeeze it.

"Esme, we're going to get on an earlier flight, okay? Hopefully sometime in the next couple days, but we'll definitely get there before Thursday."

Esme sighs and nods. "I'm so sorry to ask you to cut your trip short, kids. But I know Carlisle would love to spend some time with you beforehand. He's putting on a brave face, but I know he's really nervous about it."

"We'll be there as soon as we can, I promise," I tell her. "After the surgery, he'll stay in the hospital in Boston for a while?"

"They said it's normally three to five days, depending on how the surgery and recovery goes."

"Are you going to stay in Boston?"

"Oh, I hadn't thought about it, but yes, I guess I will. It doesn't make any sense to drive back and forth every day. I should book a hotel."

"Let us take care of it, okay? We'll find a vacation rental where we can all stay, even Emmett and Alice and the kids, if they want. Starting next Wednesday, or does he need to be there earlier?"

"Wednesday would be great, hon. I'll text you the address of the hospital."

"I'll let you know when we have our flight arranged."

"Are you okay?" I ask Edward, when we disconnect from Esme. He nods, then doubles over and lays his head in my lap. I scratch my fingers through his hair.

"It'll be okay. Your dad's so healthy. He couldn't possibly be healthier. If anyone can come through a surgery like that and recover, it's your dad." I feel him nod a little.

"I'm sorry we have to cut the trip short," he mumbles into my lap. If I were less familiar with Edward's mumbling, it would be indecipherable.

"Don't even worry about it, honey. Why don't you give me the phone number for the charter company and go lie down with the dogs." The last time he had the flu, Edward started doing this thing where he lies in the middle of the bed with Olly on one side and Ruby on the other and Alice sleeps on his chest. It's adorable and more than a little ridiculous. I've caught them napping together a few times since then, which makes me suspect that they do it all the time now.

Two days later, we fly into a small airport in New Hampshire, thirty minutes from Woodstock. Esme meets us, looking much older than she did when we last visited at Christmas. After everything he's been through in the past couple weeks, it's a relief to see Carlisle in person when we get to the house, even if he looks a little worse for wear. He doesn't have any visible bruises, but Esme told us his legs are still hurting from hitting the dashboard and his chest is black and blue where the seatbelt restrained him. He's got a big cast on his right leg protecting his ankle, which got stuck between the gas pedal and the center console, but he's well enough to get around on crutches in short bursts. Since Carlisle can't handle stairs on his own, Emmett did an emergency renovation, moving Carlisle and Esme's bed down to the den on the first floor. Everyone is nervous about having the dogs around Carlisle, but he loves the dogs and won't let us close them up in the guest room.

There are now five Cullen grandkids in Woodstock – Emmett and Rose have three girls and Alice and Jasper have twin boys, Jonah and Jackson. Since the twins were born three years ago, Emmett, Rose, Alice and Jasper have worked out a system whereby one of them watches the kids each day of the week, and Carlisle and Esme take them on Friday. The two oldest girls are now in school, so they each watch three kids until mid-afternoon when the school bus drops off the girls. Alice and Jasper also sold their condo in Killington and bought a house in the town of Woodstock, so they're just a five minute drive away. Since everyone will be coming over for dinner tonight, Carlisle and Esme both take an afternoon nap, and Edward and I take the dogs out on a long walk. We use charter flights when we fly with the dogs so they aren't stuck in a cargo hold, but they still get antsy on a long flight.

Dinner is bedlam. After seeing the way the five kids tear Emmett and Rose's house apart, I can't believe anyone was worried about our dogs. They get in the way, but they don't throw food and leave toys on the ground and _run headlong into Carlisle's fucking legs to get his attention_. A small, petty part of me wants to incite Emmett to say something about our uncontrollable dogs so I can make a snide remark about their uncontrollable kids. Alice has also turned into a helicopter mom – which should surprise exactly no one – but it drives Edward up the wall, so I try to run interference and separate them sometime between the fifteenth and twentieth ridiculously boring story she tells about her brilliant, exceptional boys. (For the record, Jonah and Jack are lovely kids, but aside from maybe their pediatrician, no one needs to hear about how their poop changes when they drink almond milk instead of 2%. And the expected response to every story Alice tells is, "you're such a good mom, Alice." "Thank goodness you document every diaper, Alice." "It's a miracle children survive with negligent parents who don't photograph their kids' poop." The real miracle is the fact that her pediatrician hasn't taken out a restraining order yet.)

Carlisle and Esme tire out fast, and Edward claims jetlag so we can leave with them. Carlisle and Esme tease us about staying in the Cullen Retirement Home, but I'm 99.99% certain Edward would lose his shit on a daily basis if we stayed with Emmett or Alice. As it is, we spend most of the weekend with the whole family, and Edward and I are almost as exhausted as Carlisle and Esme when Monday comes around and the kids go back to school. We spend Monday and Tuesday helping them clean their house and pack up Esme's car so we can leave for Boston early Wednesday. When we get to Boston, we accompany Carlisle to his pre-operative appointment at the hospital, and then head to our rental nearby in the South End. To minimize stress, Emmett and Alice will stay in Vermont until Saturday, then drive down with the kids to spend Saturday and Sunday with us. We had a "goodbye" dinner with the whole family on Tuesday night that got a little maudlin, so we try to keep Wednesday night light, but I don't think anyone gets much sleep.

Thursday is long and boring and simultaneously harrowing. The pre-operative process takes a couple hours, and then we get to spend a few minutes with Carlisle before they administer anesthesia. I know everyone is emotional, but our goodbyes with Carlisle are calm. Then we wait. And wait. And wait. At one point I fall asleep in one of those shitty hospital chairs that is connected to 16 other shitty hospital chairs. I feel terrible when I wake up drooling an hour later, but there still isn't any word. We eat junk food, watch movies on Edward's laptop, and field phone calls from Emmett and Alice and more distant relatives, and panic a little more every hour that goes by. Finally, nine hours after we said goodbye to Carlisle, his surgeon appears and tells us that he is in recovery and doing okay. Carlisle was a little slow to wake up from anesthesia, but the surgery went as well as possible. It'll be several hours before they admit us to the ICU to see him, so we decide to leave the hospital for dinner just for a change of scenery. We end up spending ten minutes riding up and down in the hospital elevator comforting Esme when she starts crying in relief.

We finally see Carlisle fourteen hours after we arrived at the hospital. He's pale, barely aware of us, and connected to a maze of tubes and wires, but he's alive. He falls asleep after just a few minutes, but no one is quite ready to leave, so we spend another hour in his room, watching CNN on mute on his TV.

When we get to the hospital on Friday morning, Carlisle is much more awake and aware, and he doesn't remember anything about the day before. Doctors and nurses are in and out of his room, and they take him away for tests twice, so he tries to get us to leave, but no one wants to. By mid-afternoon, he announces that he's sick of us and he's planning on taking a long nap, so we agree to leave him for a few hours. Esme gets to take a nap, the dogs get a late afternoon walk, and after we have dinner, we go back to the hospital and watch TV with Carlisle until he falls asleep.

On Saturday, Esme heads to the hospital in the morning and Edward and I stay at the house to wait for the hellions to arrive. When they do, we feed them and make them chase the dogs around the backyard to work out their roadtrip energy, then Emmett and Alice give them a stern lecture about how they are not to touch a single wire, cord, or tube or press any buttons at the hospital. They last less than fifteen minutes in Carlisle's ICU room before they start touching things, but I feel bad for Emmett and Alice, so I volunteer to take the kids home and watch them, to Edward's great consternation. We manage to convince them to take naps without much incident, and Edward mutes his phone after the third text from Alice about the boys. The adults come home from the hospital when Carlisle takes his nap, and after a big, chaotic, messy dinner at home, Esme, Edward and I go back to the hospital while Emmett, Rose, Jasper and Alice put their kids to bed.

We all go back to the hospital on Sunday morning, but the parens have to leave after lunch to drive back to Vermont, which for some reason inspires a massive group tantrum involving all five children. When they finally get on the road, Esme, Edward and I all take a nap, and then we sneak spaghetti and meatballs into the hospital for Carlisle's dinner.

On Monday morning, we hear the good news that Carlisle's doctors are prepared to release him if the day's tests go well, so we spend the day waiting to hear. Carlisle, for all his enthusiasm and good cheer, is much more difficult to move than we expected. Having had his rib cage cracked open just a few days ago, Carlisle can't manage his crutches at all, so Edward has to lift him in and out of the car and carry him when we get to the house. And our short little car ride from the hospital to our vacation rental is torturous for him – he feels every bump and brake and turn all over.

On Tuesday, Carlisle is still in a lot of pain. We discuss trying to extend our rental for another week, but after five days in the hospital, Carlisle is desperate to get back home, so we bundle him up in the car with a bunch of pillows and make the three-hour drive back to Vermont. Edward is extra quiet throughout the drive and the rest of the day, but I don't get a chance to ask him about it until we're in bed.

"What's up, honey?" I ask, when he's spooning me from behind.

"My parents got old," he says.

"Yeah," I squeeze his hand, "that happens." If you're lucky, I want to add, but now's not the time.

"My mom can't take care of my dad, Bella," he says. "I mean, she can make him sandwiches and empty his bedpan and do the laundry, but she can't even help him out of bed. She can't help him up and down the front steps. What happens if he falls out of bed? What if something happens to her?" Edward's talking faster and louder, the way he always does when he starts to panic.

"He'll call your brother. Or your sister. Or 911. Hell, if he yelled loud enough, Emmett and Rose could probably hear him from here."

"But Emmett and Rose aren't here all the time. And they're so wrapped up in their own shit…"

"Kids are demanding, Edward. Not 'photograph their poop' demanding, but still. What do you want to do?" By the time Edward vocalizes his anxiety, he almost always has a plan in mind.

He sighs. "I want to stay here."

"Until your dad recovers?"

"Well, yes…but…" When Edward pauses, I roll over so I can see him. "Maybe longer." He swallows hard.

"You want to move back?"

He shrugs. "I don't know exactly. Maybe not permanently. Maybe I'm overreacting because my dad is such bad shape. Maybe he'll recover and live for twenty years. But right now, it feels like my parents are dying while I'm hanging out at the beach. And my siblings are just pissed because they have to watch their own children on the weekend. Someone needs to take care of them, Bella."

I see tears in his eyes so I wrap an arm around him and pull him close. "Okay."

"You don't mind if I stay here?"

"I would mind it very much if I weren't planning on staying here with you."

"What…but…doesn't the show start up again next month?"

I raise an eyebrow at him. "Were you thinking we'd live 3000 miles apart? Is this your way of telling me you want to get a divorce?"

"No, of course not. I just didn't think you'd be ready to move. I thought we'd have to be bicoastal or something, at least until the show is done."

"Well, we might, at least for a little while. I need to talk to Grace. Maybe I take next season off. Maybe I leave the show, at least as a writer. I don't know what the options are. I don't want to make things difficult for everyone else."

"But you love the show."

"I'll love it even if I'm not working on it every day."

"Bella, you gave up your dream of working in publishing to work on this show. I'm not going to ask you to give up the show so I can help my dad in and out of the shower."

"Edward," I sigh. "I 'gave up my dream of working in publishing' because I realized that I might not ever work on anything again that I enjoyed as much as I enjoyed working on your books. I got to work on books I love with a person I love, even when I had to do stupid shit like convince you to appear on _The View_. But projects like that are few and far between. I asked my boss once to tell me about the projects she worked on that she really loved, and she could only name a couple books. When Grace and I got network interest in the pilot, I kept asking myself, what if I got all my great books at the beginning of my career? What if I never get to work on anything like this ever again?"

"Then why would you leave the show before it's over?"

"You said something to me once about how the most important thing to you is that we're together. It doesn't matter where we're going or what we're doing, as long as we're doing it together. That's how I feel too. I have had such wonderful experiences the past ten years, all because you're in my life. You've always been the right decision for me. If you need to come back here – for a couple months or for good – I want to come with you."

"What if it's all for nothing? What if my dad recovers and lives another twenty years?"

"You're talking to someone who organized her entire life around being close to her dad. You don't have to convince me of anything. I have lots of regrets about those years, but the one thing I'll never regret is that I got to be there at the end of my dad's life. Your parents are wonderful people, Edward. If they live for another twenty years, we'll be grateful we had all that time with them."

Edward purses his lips and stares at me. "You're sure? You're willing to move here?"

"One condition."

"Okay."

"I would really like to live in a house where I don't have to constantly wonder if people can see us having sex."

Edward grins and blushes. "I'll do my best, but I can't make any promises."

* * *

 _I use writing as an excuse to look at real estate I'll never be able to afford. So if you'd like to see Edward and Bella's LA house, google MLS 16164926._

 _Next chapter is the last. I should be done with it by the end of the year, so in the mean time, happy holidays!_


	18. A little something extra: September 2025

_I am a liar, and this is not the final chapter. This is just a little something extra, a weekend that has been floating around my brain for a while that was very easy to write down, unlike the last chapter, which I've been working on FOREVER. It's almost done, though. It's coming soon, I promise._

 _As a reminder, in the last chapter, Carlisle had heart surgery, which made Edward realize his parents were getting old, and they decided to move to Vermont. Since she was obligated to work on the 4th season of their TV show, Bella had to go back to LA to wrap things up. This takes place about a couple months later._

* * *

I'm waiting in Terminal 3 at LAX for Edward's Virgin America flight when my phone buzzes with a text.

 _I need to tell you something_ , Edward says.

 _Did you miss your flight?_ I write back.

 _No._

 _Are you in LAX?_

 _Yes._

 _So stop texting and get here already._

 _I need to tell you something._

 _Did you bring your new girlfriend with you?_

He sends back the emoji that we decided, after much discussion, signifies eye rolling.

 _Did you dye your hair blue?_

 _You're getting warmer._

When I look up from my phone, I see Edward striding towards me with no hair. Well, almost no hair. As much as I love mussing up his hair, the buzz cut is…working for me. Then again, it's been a month since I had sex with anything other than my vibrator, so I can't imagine much that Edward could do that would turn me off.

Edward drops his duffel bag when he reaches me, and as we hug I rub my hand over his fuzzy scalp. I grin at him when he pulls away and he smiles back at me bashfully, running his own hand over his head.

"So, were you going to tell me about your hair, or were you going to tell me about your…pants situation?" I glance meaningfully toward his zipper. It was obvious when we hugged that little Eduardo was eager to get this party started.

He blushes. "Both. Can we get out of here?"

"Is this all your stuff?"

He nods, and we head to the parking garage.

"I watched Emmett's girls on Wednesday and they had this temporary hair dye Rose agreed to let them use for 'spirit day' at their school," he says as we walk. "I let them talk me into doing it with them, but it just made this dark streak down the middle of my head, and it didn't wash out as easily as it was supposed to. I looked like a fucking skunk. Mom trimmed out the dye, and then cut the rest of match, but it looked like a toddler had cut it, so Emmett gave me his clippers and…this is where we ended up." I smile at him as he rubs his head. "Do you hate it?"

"Honey, I'm so happy to see you, I wouldn't care if you shaved off your eyebrows." I eye him as we walk. "And this…is definitely better than shaved eyebrows."

We get to my SUV, and I pop the trunk so Edward can throw his bag in. After I close the trunk, he grabs my hand and pulls me around the far side. He presses me up against the side of the car and kisses me.

"I missed you," he murmurs, when his tongue is back in his own mouth.

"Apparently," I smirk at him.

"I had a dream about you on the plane," he says. "I've had a hard-on since Colorado."

I hum as I reach for his belt. "What was I doing in this dream?"

"You were on top of me, on the plane." He tucks his head so he can rest his forehead on my shoulder as I press my hand against his erection through his jeans. "Riding me while everyone else in first class slept."

"Did anyone see us?"

"People started to wake up before we finished, but we didn't stop."

"Edward?"

"Hmm?"

"Get in the back seat."

It takes a moment for Edward's lust-addled brain to process my instructions, but when it does, Edward scrambles to open the door and climb in the back seat. I look around the garage before I join him, making sure no one is paying any particular attention to us. Is fucking in an airport parking garage a federal offense? I try to put that question out of my mind.

Edward must have started taking off his pants as soon as he got in the car, because he's sitting there like Winnie the Pooh when I climb in, wearing nothing but a t-shirt and a smile. His jeans are in a pile next to his feet.

"You know, one of us needs to take our jeans off to make this work, and it isn't you."

"You weren't moving fast enough," he says as he reaches for my belt. I have to lay down on the seat in order for Edward to pull my jeans off, but Edward clearly wants to make his dream come true, because he pulls me up and into his lap as soon as my pants and underwear are off. I reach between us to hold him steady as I sink down on him, and we both moan. I hold still for a moment with him deep inside me, and Edward presses his forehead against my chest.

"Can I take this off?" He murmurs as he tugs on my t-shirt. I glance through the windows again – I know the tinting on the back seat is dark, especially in a dim parking lot, but I'm still nervous. I take my bra off through my sleeves, and then pull my shirt up so Edward can access the girls. He cups them in his hands, pushing them together and circling my nipples with his thumbs.

"I missed you," he sighs.

"Me or my boobs?" I ask.

His eyes dart up to my face and he smiles boyishly. "Both?" He lowers his mouth to my chest, and I start moving over him.

I haven't masturbated since Edward and I FaceTimed five days ago, so I'm raring to go, but I need more, right from the beginning. I feel frantic. We start moving together rhythmically, but soon I'm bouncing on him more forcefully. On one particularly enthusiastic bounce I smack the crown of my head on the sunroof.

"Are you okay?" Edward asks, pressing his hand to the top of my head.

I shake my head. "I need more. I can't get close enough."

He hums as he looks me over. "Turn around."

I climb off him gingerly, being very careful not to knee him in any delicate places as I turn. I brace myself on the front seats and Edward guides himself back inside me as I lower myself on top of him. He's immediately much deeper inside me, and I sigh in relief. It's like he's scratching an itch I couldn't reach.

"Lean back," he says, and when I do, he cups my right breast in one hand and my pubic mound in the other. "Watch your head, okay?"

We aren't able to move very much with me on top of Edward like this, but I brace my arms on the top of the car and Edward thrusts beneath me and we gyrate together. But it's what Edward is doing with his hand that really gets me going. With his palm pressing down on my G spot and his fingers pressed against my clit, I feel my orgasm racing towards me. Just as my pants turn to moans, I hear a car alarm chirp so loudly that it could be coming from our car. Edward clamps a hand over my mouth and presses his mouth against my shoulder, and we come together with muffled cries.

When my senses return, I look around and see the car next to us has left.

"Oh God, we're going to get arrested," I say, pointing to the empty space.

"Nah, he was cool," Edward says. "He gave us a thumbs up."

"What?!" I turn to face him. "Seriously?"

He nods. "Don't worry, I don't think he saw anything. Your shirt was down, and he'd need x-ray vision to see what was happening down below."

That doesn't make me feel any better, but I'm the one who told Edward to get in the back seat. Maybe his exhibitionism is rubbing off on me.

We stop at Edward's favorite fish taco place on the way home, and we get there just in time to watch the sunset. While we eat, Edward catches me up on his week. His dad is still recovering from surgery, and he's doing well, but he still isn't very mobile. He takes daily walks, and he can now make it down the driveway to the mailbox and back, but car rides still make his chest ache. When he isn't taking his parents to doctor's appointments, Edward has been looking for a house for us to buy near Woodstock. He's here this weekend for the Emmys, but also to go through the house and figure out what we want to keep and ship to Vermont. And also to have sex.

"It's weird being here without the dogs," Edward says, when we're lying in bed together later.

"It's weird being here all by myself," I say. "I hate being here alone at night, with these huge windows. I always feel like I'm being watched."

"You didn't feel like that before?"

"Nah. Who would want to look at you, always walking around in your underwear?" Edward laughs, but the truth is that it always bothered me, but until came back here last month, I could count the number of times I was alone in this house on one hand.

"Why don't you move in to a hotel?" Edward asks. "There are some nice places right by your office. You could walk to work. You'd probably be the first person to walk to work in the history of Los Angeles. They'd do stories about you on those insipid morning news shows."

"It doesn't feel right," I say. "I know we're in a very different tax bracket than my parents were, but it just seems so wasteful to stay in a hotel in the same city where I own a multimillion dollar house."

"Well, we could probably find an Econolodge, if that would make you feel better," he jokes. "You could always just move, sweetheart. The show would be okay. ' _They don't love you like I love you_ ,'" he sings, a little snippet of an old Yeah Yeah Yeahs song I love.

"I can't yet. But soon. They're promoting Abby to co-head writer next week, and as soon as we find someone to take Abby's place on the writing staff, I can leave with a clear conscience."

We spend Saturday going through our stuff and looking at videos of the houses he's seen in Vermont, and we are only distracted by each other's genitalia a couple times. Grace comes over for dinner and we walk down to the restaurant on the beach around the corner from our house, where we eat way too much food and drink too many margaritas for a group of people who have to squeeze into fancy clothes tomorrow.

On Sunday, my "glam squad" (their words, not mine) shows up at 11 to get me ready for our departure for the Emmys at 3. Even after a few years of this, I'm still flabbergasted that anyone can spend four hours on hair and makeup and boob tape, but that is in fact how long it takes. By 2:55, I'm wearing a bunch of hair that isn't mine and a red Christian Siriano dress that is, because I'm definitely nowhere near famous enough to get free clothes sent to me. It's tight on top, which Edward loves, and loose and flowy on the bottom, which I love because it means no Spanx. And it has pockets, which is my favorite dress trend of the past decade. I look good, but Edward looks sublime in his tux. We blast the air conditioning in the limo to keep my makeup from sliding off, and I bar Edward from touching me, so we spend the car ride on his iPad looking at some drawings his mother made of a house we could build in Vermont. Esme's a decorator, not an architect, so her drawings are more artistic than technical, but they're beautiful. I want to climb into her drawings with a cup of hot chocolate and a book. And a cat. I'm not a cat person, but there should definitely be a cat in Esme's house.

We pull up to the theater during the final crush before the Emmys begin, which is just how I like it. When it's quiet, paparazzi try to figure out who we are. When it's busy, no one bothers. We make it into the auditorium and find our seats with all the other non-famous nominees from our show right before the telecast begins. And I am proud of myself when I manage to wait an entire half hour before pulling out the baggie of Goldfish crackers stashed in my bag. My self-control is legendary.

Our show is nominated for a few awards, but after we lose best supporting actor, best supporting actress, and writing, energy is pretty low in our tiny section in the back of the theater. So we are all completely stunned when, three minutes before the end of the show, they announce that _Cold Harbor_ won best drama. Our whole section starts to head up on stage, but I'd be just as happy to enjoy Grace's speech from our seats. I tug on Edward's hand and ask him if he's sure we're supposed to go up, but he just rolls his eyes and pulls me towards the stage.

Grace is already talking by the time we get on stage, so Edward and I tuck ourselves in behind the beautiful people. Grace gives a good speech, thanking all the appropriate people and joking about how we knew if we stayed on the air long enough half of Hollywood would appear in our sprawling cast and they'd vote for us to win just so they could say they worked on an Emmy-winning show. While she speaks, I look around to figure out which side of the stage we're supposed to exit, and when the music comes up, I start inching in the right direction.

"Wait, I've got one more thing to say," Grace says over the music. "There are two people without whom this show wouldn't exist. You all know about Edward, who created the world of _Cold Harbor_ and all the characters you love. You probably don't know that Edward was very, very reluctant to sell out. He probably turned away twenty or thirty writers, producers and studios before I came along, and he only agreed to work with me because his wife, Bella, believed in me. So thank you to Bella, for picking me to win the lottery and helping us make a show that new fans and old fans can love."

We leave the stage in a scrum of _Cold Harbor_ cast and crew. Since Grace and I are both shorter than the statuesque giants who star on the show, I don't find her until we're heading into the backstage press room. When she sees me, she pulls me into a tight hug, then hugs Edward. She hands him the statue with a grin before dashing into the press room in her tuxedo and sneakers. Edward follows behind her, and doesn't realize I'm not following him until he's in front of the press. He glares at me, but I get to linger just outside the room and out of view of the cameras until they finish answering silly questions.

Since the Emmys are over, everyone is eager to get to the Governors Ball and eat and drink. Lots of the cast are changing, but I love my dress and I love Edward in a tux, so he's stuck in it for the night. We do manage to change into more comfortable shoes, flats for me and sneakers for Edward. We sneak through the throngs of minglers and glad-handers at the Governors Ball to find our table, and the waiters – who are more attractive than some of the stars of our show – bring us food right away. We're eventually joined by Grace and a few other executive producers and their spouses, and we eat all the food the waiters will bring us in between visits from well-wishers and ass-kissers.

When Gigi Hadid starts singing, we all summon our respective drivers so we can head to the HBO after party, which has far fewer reporters and a commensurate increase in drunken antics. Jeremy Piven hits on every woman in the room under the age of 25. Ryan Murphy hits on every man in the room under the age of 25. Benedict Cumberbatch and Tom Hiddleston have a dance-off in the middle of the dance floor, and everyone in the room is simultaneously transfixed and sexually confused. Lena Dunham and Lorde make out at the booth across from ours. Edward and I dance a little, but we find a comfy armchair in a dark corner and we spend most of the night watching the shenanigans. We stay at the HBO party until the Beyonce/Cher duet, and on our way home, our driver is kind enough to stop at Dunkin Donuts so we can eat even more food while we watch the Emmy recap shows from our bed. All in all, a good night.

We wake up late on Monday. We're supposed to spend the day going through our closets, but we're both tired and hungover, so we grab a greasy lunch on our way to the beach. An hour of direct LA sunlight is as much as our pale northern complexions can take, so we soon head home and jump in our pool to cool off.

"What do you want to do about the house in Vermont?" Edward asks, as we float around.

"I think we should build your mom's house," I say. "What do you think?"

"I like it," Edward says. "I'd rather pay my mom and my brother than a realtor's commission. Seeing as how we don't have any realtors in the family," he grins at me. "It's the best way to make sure we get everything we want."

Even though Edward is flying home tomorrow, we give his parents a call, and after they finish congratulating us and talking about how handsome we were on stage, Esme promises to call her architect friend and start looking for good buildable land immediately. I have no doubt she'll have a list of places by the time Edward lands tomorrow night.

We spend the rest of the day going through the house and packing up stuff we want to move. Edward decides to sell his Tesla – he loves it, but it just doesn't make sense for Vermont – and we'll drive my SUV to Vermont when we finally move, so we start building a pile of stuff we'll move with us in the garage. Since our LA house came furnished, and the furniture is better suited to LA than Vermont, we decide to leave almost all the furniture, save a couple things we've become attached to. Then, for old time's sake, I let Edward fuck me with the lights on in front of one of the big glass windows.

Edward's grumpy about leaving on Tuesday morning, but I have to get to work and he has to get back to his parents. After he checks in at the airport, we stand outside security with our arms around each other until they call his flight.

"If you're still here next month, I'm coming back," he grouches.

"I'm looking forward to it already," I smile at him.

"You should be _looking forward_ to hiring a writer," he pouts.

"I'm looking forward to that too." The one downside of Edward's buzz cut is that I can't calm him down by scratching my fingers through his hair. I kiss him, but it doesn't have the same effect.

"It's just another month or two, honey. Soon, I promise."

* * *

 _Soon..._


	19. Epilogue: December 2030

_This is the end, internet friends. I'm sorry for the wait. It's 19,000 words, which is about as long as I thought this entire story would be when I started. Hahahahahahahaaaaaa._

 _As a reminder, last time around, Bella and Edward were living in Los Angeles and Bella was working on the TV adaptation of Edward's book. Carlisle had a car accident and heart surgery, which led Edward and Bella to decide to move to Vermont. This chapter takes place five years after they moved._

 _If you'd like to see photos of Bella and Edward's house, google **2294 Robinson Springs Road, Stowe, VT, 05672**. The house isn't on the market anymore, but there are a bunch of photos of it online. (They don't live in Stowe - they live close to Woodstock.)_

* * *

After a long flight from Los Angeles to Boston, and a short flight from Boston to the municipal airport in Lebanon, New Hampshire, I'm surprised to see Edward alone in the tiny airport terminal.

"Did you give the kids back while I was away?" I ask him after we kiss. Edward and I have four kids, three who are in foster care and one we adopted from foster care.

"Emmett brought over our Christmas trees this afternoon, so I lured him into staying to watch the kids with pizza."

"Emmett's such a cheap date."

"We have some of my dad's apple pie, too. Well, we did. It's probably gone now, so don't get your hopes up," Edward says as we get into his SUV. "Did you get a chance to talk to Grace last night?"

"Yeah, she doesn't want to do it." I was out in LA to talk to HBO about doing a _Cold Harbor_ movie, a prequel of sorts to the television show, depicting the Civil War battle for which the series was named. They've asked Edward and me to write the script, and I had dinner with Grace last night to get her advice and try to interest her in working on it with us. "She and Laura are in a good place, and she's wary about taking on a project so big, especially with the producers pushing to film in Atlanta. She likes what she's doing, TV episodes and stuff, short-term commitments. And she didn't say it, but I think she's worried about pigeonholing herself. I think she's enjoying her freedom after ten years living in the world of _Cold Harbor_."

Edward snorts. "Yeah, I know the feeling. What does she think we should do?"

"It depends on how much time and enthusiasm we have for the subject matter. If we don't want to be involved, we can just give them our blessing and they'll find another writer. They can move forward even without our blessing, but they'll want us onboard as Executive Producers so they can use our names – well, your name, really. But we won't have any say – if we hate the script, the director, or anything else, we won't have any recourse. They want an Edward Cullen script, but if they can't get it, they won't want us meddling."

"We'll have more of a say if the script is ours?"

"That's what the producers said, and Grace said there's no reason to distrust them now. Probably not casting and stuff like that, but we'd definitely be involved in choosing the director, which is important."

"What do you want to do?"

"Well, when it comes to enthusiasm, I think it's up to you. I'm not the one who wrote a senior thesis on the Civil War. Do you really want to go back to that after all this time?"

"I don't want to write another book, but thinking about the war and the history of the families – it's interesting intellectually, and different from anything I've done before," Edward says. "I looked through my thesis and some of my old research materials while you were away, and came up with a rough outline. But I haven't written anything longer than a syllabus in years. It might be shit."

"Well, I haven't written anything longer than a text message, so I might be illiterate by now. Anyway, I'm more worried about the time. I know that it might just be us and Riley six months from now, but at the moment, we've got four kids at home. I don't want to take time away from them – especially Lulu. I'm not putting her in pre-school before she's ready."

"I have an idea about that," Edward says. "I get the feeling that my Dad might be interested in moving in with us."

I snort. "Did you get that 'feeling' from Alice?" Alice and Jasper separated earlier this year, and since black mold was discovered in a house in her neighborhood a couple months ago, she's been hinting about moving in with her dad. Carlisle has lived alone since Esme passed away last year, but his two-bedroom house would be a tight fit for four people, especially since two of those people are eight-year-old boys.

"Nah, that would require Alice and I to have a conversation. It's coming from him. He came over three times this week. I think he's lonely."

"But not lonely enough to move into his den and turn over the rest of his house to Alice and the boys?"

Edward shakes his head. "He's lonely, not crazy."

"He understands everything with the girls, right?"

"Yeah, he understands. But it's not like we'd stop taking in kids if they went home, right?"

It makes me sad to think about losing the girls, but you learn to live with that sadness as a foster parent, knowing that so much of your kids' lives are out of your control and no amount of love or care will erase the uncertainty from their lives.

I finally moved to Vermont for good about six months after Carlisle's heart surgery. While I was finishing up work and selling our house in LA, Edward found a plot of land he liked about twenty minutes from his family's property, and Emmett's company started construction on the house Esme designed. The first thing they finished on the property was a small guest cabin, which was ready for us to move into a few weeks after I arrived. The main house was finished four months later.

Esme worked with an architect to design a beautiful, modern house for us. From the outside, it looks like four barn-style buildings with glass-walled hallways connecting them, perched on a hillside. The smallest of the four structures is the entryway and hub of the house. The garage is the second structure. The third structure contains two big master bedroom suites, with our bedroom suite on the main floor and another big bedroom suite on the lower floor. The largest structure houses an open plan kitchen/dining room/living room on the main floor and two bedrooms and a family room on the lower floor. We've got a pool and Jacuzzi out back, and a pond a little further down the hill next to the guest cabin.

The TV show continued for three seasons after I moved to Vermont, and while I was no longer involved as a writer, I stayed on as a producer and did a fair amount of consulting with the writers' room via email and videoconference. I'd spend a couple weeks in LA every year for our writers' retreat, where we'd map out each season, and I reviewed every script before it was finalized. Edward was sort of at loose ends after we moved – he helped his parents a lot, especially in the immediate aftermath of Carlisle's accident and surgery, and he spent a lot of time working with his mom on the interior design of our house, but when the house was done, he did a lot of puttering. He did some volunteer work, and it appeared for a while our house would turn into a very expensive shelter for homeless animals, but a few years ago we met a neighbor who teaches American History at Dartmouth College. She recruited Edward for a couple speaking appearances at the college, and then convinced the English department to hire him as a lecturer so they could co-teach a class on history and literature. Last year he started teaching a small writing seminar as well.

I discovered I was a pregnant for the second time a few months after I moved to Vermont. It wasn't intentional, even though Edward and I had been discussing children more in our much more abundant free time. The gynecologist I started seeing in Vermont was concerned about my blood pressure, so we switched birth control medications, and somehow a fertilized egg snuck through during the change. I guess it's not a complete mystery; once we were finally reunited, in our own house and relatively unemployed, Edward and I had a bit of a second honeymoon, as they say. We defiled most of the lovely, very sturdy furniture Esme had selected for us.

My second pregnancy was very different from my first. My concerns about being a mom hadn't disappeared, but we had security and free time and family surrounding us, and that drowned out some of the self-doubt. We had both been in therapy in Los Angeles, individually and occasionally together, and it felt like we were as ready for parenthood as we could ever be. Nonetheless, my second pregnancy ended the same way as my first, in a miscarriage. We were crushed. It was painful to be around Edward's family – well-intentioned, loving and omnipresent – so we took off. We went to Brazil, where we ate too much and drank too much and slept too much and wallowed for a couple months, until the sadness started to loosen its grip.

We finally decided we wanted to get pregnant on purpose, so when we returned home we went to my OB/GYN to try to figure out what happened. She had been keeping a close eye on my hormone levels during my first trimester because my test results suggested I was headed for hypothyroidism, and she ran tests which also identified uterine fibroids. Both were treatable conditions, but combined with my high blood pressure, it was likely that any future pregnancies would require close medical supervision. That didn't bother me as much as one persistent thought: I could spend nine months in bed and visit my doctor weekly and take every pill and have every procedure she recommended and there was still a chance – maybe a large chance – that I would lose another baby. When you lose a baby, everyone tells you it isn't your fault, but there's a long, painful path to walk between knowing it isn't your fault and feeling it. When you've spent twenty years believing you weren't meant to be anyone's mother, two miscarriages feel like a message, or a judgment. I wanted to have a baby, but the thought of getting pregnant again – and possibly miscarrying again – filled me with anxiety.

So Edward and I talked about surrogacy and adopting, and then Edward suggested we could become foster parents. When we lived in LA, a bout with writer's block had led Edward to volunteer work with CASA, the local Court Appointed Special Advocate program, which matches children with open abuse or neglect cases with lay volunteers who advocate on their behalf. The experience had really made an impression on him, so much so that we started directing all our charitable giving to programs supporting foster kids. I wish I could explain why, after ten years of debating whether we should have a child, it was so much easier to say yes to the idea of becoming a foster parent. It just was. Almost as soon as Edward brought it up, I knew I wanted to be a foster parent. The process of becoming foster parents was long and occasionally frustrating, but at no point did I doubt that we were doing the right thing.

That doesn't mean it's been easy. Our first fosters were a girl and boy, Bree and Riley, who came to us three years ago at the ages of thirteen and eleven. They had lived with their grandmother after their mother's death, but after their grandmother passed away, they languished in foster care, going through two foster homes and a group home before they came to us. Bree was…tough. She ran away for the first time the first week she lived with us. We called the cops in a panic, and after a long, sleepless night, she showed up at her school before homeroom the next morning. Sometimes she was gone longer – a couple times she hitchhiked to Burlington, where they lived before they came to us. If you've never had to worry about a thirteen year old hitchhiking around rural Vermont in winter, it's brutal. Bree was clever and driven to avoid her mother's mistakes, and she told us she liked living with us and would always come home, but she had an underdeveloped sense of self-preservation. Bree didn't like to talk about her past, but Riley told us that she started running away from their second foster home to avoid unwanted attention from an older boy, and her habit of running got them sent to the group home, which was a miserable experience for both of them. We stopped calling the cops because we didn't want her to end up in the juvenile justice system, but that left us with nothing to do but wait and worry, and all that worrying took a toll on us. Riley must have overheard Edward and me worrying or arguing about her, because our quiet, calm boy eventually exploded, screaming at Bree that she was going to get them sent back to the group home. We reassured them that we had no desire to lose them, but that it wasn't entirely up to us, and if the cops caught her hitchhiking, we'd have no say over what happened to her or Riley. They always try to keep siblings together if they can, but we had no idea what would happen to Riley if his sister was sent to a secure facility.

Fortunately, Riley's explosion made an impact on Bree, and led us to reach an agreement with her: absolutely no hitchhiking; we would take her to Burlington to see her friends once a month; if she needed to disappear for a few hours, we had to know where she was. We bought her a cell phone that made it possible for us to track her on GPS, and she promised to always take it with her. She still takes off every now and then, but since she tells us before she goes, it's practically normal teenage behavior.

Riley was a different kind of challenge. He came to us with an ADHD diagnosis, a couple different prescriptions, and terrible grades, none of which made sense to us because he seemed to be a calm, quiet, thoughtful kid. It took us a while to figure out that Riley was actually dyslexic, and had a habit of acting up in class anytime he was confused or frustrated, which was pretty much all the time. We got him an IEP and a tutor and found him a new psychiatrist who helped us wean him off the medications, but school is an ongoing struggle for him, especially when he becomes hyperactive. Despite his academic difficulties, he's a sweet, lovely kid. He and Edward are especially close; they play video games, ski in the winter, and hike during the summer. Riley recently became interested in rock climbing, and I subsequently became interested in buying all the rock climbing safety gear in New England.

Once Bree and Riley settled in, we looked in to adopting them. The process was relatively easy with Riley; his father had passed away when he was a baby, and no one in his father's family had ever met him, or was in a position to take him. But Bree's father is alive and incarcerated in upstate New York. He had been a distant and inconsistent presence all her life, so everyone was surprised when he objected to the termination of his parental rights that would have made it possible for us to adopt Bree. He has become much more interested in her in the last couple years – writing letters, calling, asking her to visit. We've taken her to the prison a half dozen times. He's eligible for parole next summer, and he claims he wants to be a father to Bree after he's released, so we're on hold while we wait for Bree to decide what she wants.

The newest additions to the family are two little girls, four-year-old Cassie and two-year-old Lulu (short for Luisa). They came to us earlier this year when their mom was arrested. She is currently serving a nine month jail sentence, and she's receiving treatment in jail and hopes to get her kids back, so even though we'd love to adopt the girls, we're all holding out hope that she'll succeed. Family reunification is the goal in foster care, when it's safe and appropriate for the kids, and as a foster parent you have to root for the success of your kids' families.

"Hey, I need to tell you something," Edward says as he pulls into our garage. "Bree's dad called. He wants her to visit for Christmas."

"Okay," I say. Edward gives me a look. "You don't want her to go?" Matt's prison is about six hours away by car, and with all the security checks involved in visiting, we usually make it into a two-day trip, which is more of a hassle now that we have Cassie and Lulu. I know that's not Edward's issue, though – he's never trusted Matt, doesn't think he has any intention of following through with Bree, and believes Matt is just jerking her around, possibly looking for some kind of financial benefit. I'm not ready to believe Matt's intentions are dishonest, but I don't have a ton of confidence in his ability to follow through. Still, I try to give Bree room to make up her own mind about her dad.

"I told her she needed to talk to you," Edward says.

"So you defer to me, and I defer to her. Why don't you just defer to her yourself?"

"But you don't _just_ defer to her. You talk to her and you work your Bella magic," he says while waving his hands around, "and it makes things better."

"But _you_ could talk to her. Work some Edward magic," I say, waving my hands around like he did.

Edward shakes his head. "I can't hide how much I dislike him. I know it's wrong, but I just can't."

I sigh. "If I talk to her and we decide to go, are you going to be mad at me?"

"Nope. I'll be mad at him." He smiles sheepishly at me. "But that's nothing new."

Inside the house, we find Emmett in the kitchen with Cassie and Lulu and most of the dogs. We still have Olly and Ruby, our aging Golden Retrievers. Alice is the elderly Queen of the house, bossing us all around from her position our bed, rousing to eat, poop, and occasionally bark at the sky like a lunatic. (Edward says she sleeps on my pillow because she loves me; I think she sleeps on my pillow because she hopes I'll finally disappear and she'll have Edward all to herself again.) Chase is the baby, a young pit bull mix who appeared in our yard last summer with a broken leg. After a trip to the vet to set his leg, we drove him around the neighborhood, knocking on doors and putting up flyers in an effort to find his family, but no one responded. He earns his name by running in the opposite direction every time his name is called with a big doggy smile on his face. We even have a cat, though not by choice. Monkey apparently came with the property. She showed up on our porch our first night here, and she kept coming back no matter how many times Olly chased her away. I would say she's about 60% ours: we feed her and take her to the vet and she sleeps in Bree's room most nights, but she disappears sometimes for days on end, and we've considered the possibility that she has multiple families. We put a GPS collar on her once to try to track her, but she ditched it in the back yard just a few hours later.

"Finally," Emmett says when he sees us. "I thought maybe you guys were making boom-boom in the garage." Lulu holds her arms out to me as soon as she sees me, so after I kiss Cassie, I lift Lulu out of her chair and take her to the sink to clean her up.

"What's boom-boom?" Cassie asks.

Emmett opens his mouth, but Edward answers first. "Laundry."

"But you don't do laundry in the garage," Cassie says indignantly. Cassie's a chatterbox, assertive and opinionated. Lulu is much quieter. Their mother's addiction started after Lulu's very difficult birth, and it affected Lulu's development more than Cassie's. She's small for her age and very quiet, especially with groups and strangers, so she stays home with us when her sister goes to pre-school, and we take her to a speech therapist once a week.

"You're right, sweetie," Edward says as he lifts Cassie up on the kitchen counter to clean her up. "But no one lets Uncle Emmett make boom-boom anymore. He forgot how it's done."

Emmett screws his face up in consternation. "Hey! I make plenty of boom-boom." He points between Edward and I. "I'll have you know I made boom-boom just this morning."

"By yourself, or did Rose help?" Edward asks.

"Ew," I mutter at Lulu, who thankfully has no clue what we're talking about. "Boys are gross," I whisper, and she giggles quietly.

"Oh, Rose helped," Emmett says proudly. "Rose helped plenty."

"You can't do _the laundry_?" Cassie asks accusingly. "But you're a grown-up!"

"I am very, very good at doing the laundry myself, Miss Cassie," Emmett says proudly. "I'm even better when Rose helps."

"Thanks for watching the kids and bringing the trees over, Em," Edward says as he puts Cassie on the floor and lifts Lulu off the counter. "I think it's time for everyone to get ready for bed."

Cassie starts to protest, but Emmett insists he has to leave anyway. Edward takes the girls downstairs, promising to send Bree and Riley up to keep me company while I eat dinner, but only Bree appears.

"Riley's gaming online with his friends," Bree announces with a roll of her eyes as she sits at the table across from me. "He said he'd be up later."

"How was your week?" I ask. "How's school?"

"Ugh," she says with another roll of her eyes. Bree's very clever, but she's intensely practical. She does exactly what she needs to get by, and no more. We think her grades are good enough to get into college, but whether she's willing to go is another issue. "School's fine, but my dad called to ask me to visit. The prison is doing a special visiting day for Christmas. Edward said I should ask you."

"Is it _on_ Christmas?"

"No, it's next Saturday. But he said he'd be happy for us to come any visiting day, if we can't go that day."

"Do you want to go?"

She shrugs and grabs a slice of pizza from the box on the table. "Isn't it a hassle?"

"It's part of the job, honey. We want you to have a relationship with your family. If it were unmanageable, we would say so."

"But you don't trust him." Bree fixes her eyes on me, and I know she's assessing my reaction to what she's saying. I have to tell the truth, because Bree is a walking lie detector and I'm a shitty liar.

"I…think it's unlikely your father will ever be in a position where you'll be able to live with him, but it means a lot that he wants to. Whether or not it works out, I hope he gives his best effort. You deserve to have your father sincerely do his best for you."

"Edward doesn't think he's sincere?"

"What makes you say that?"

"It's obvious he's mad at him. When Edward's mad about something, he doesn't want to talk about it. He never wants to talk about my dad."

I wish she hadn't noticed that, but the girl is observant. I can't blame Edward for that.

"Edward was really disappointed that we couldn't adopt you, like I was, and he has less confidence in Matt than I do. But he does his best to hide it because he knows his feelings shouldn't affect your relationship with your dad." I smile at her. "Obviously he doesn't hide it well enough, but it's just because he loves you and wants to protect you."

"Protect me from my dad?"

"From being hurt." I pick at my pizza to buy myself a moment. "He thinks it's weird that your dad was so disengaged for so many years, and now he's ready to be a dad when you're so close to being adopted."

"Maybe he's just rehabilitated."

I smile at her. "I hope he is, sweetheart. I really do." I sigh. "Here's the thing. Getting out of prison is really, really difficult. He'll have to find a place to live and a job or else he'll violate parole, and apartments and jobs can be really hard to come by when your last address was a state prison. They have transitional living, halfway houses and things like that, but you can't live with him there. So he's got to figure out all of that before he can even think about bringing you home, and then he'll have to deal with home studies and enrolling you in school and all that. It's a lot to manage, no matter who you are. I'm rooting for your dad – whether you're with him or with us, I want him to succeed. I just think he's going to have a lot on his plate."

"But couldn't he move here? Jasper has a couple ex-cons working in his kitchen, he told me that. Couldn't my dad get a job here?"

"Parole is kind of like foster care – you get parole in a particular state, and when you're on parole you aren't supposed to move to another state. I've read that you can violate parole just by crossing state lines, even if you're just buying gas or whatever. There is a process for transferring someone from parole in one state to another, but that's just another thing he would have to work out, probably with a lawyer. But, honey…you need to understand that we can't help him, as much as we might want to. We would figure out a way for you and Riley to spend time together, but your judge or caseworker might be concerned if we're very involved in your life or your dad's. They worry about boundaries and blurred lines and all that."

"So if he gets parole, basically, I'll have to move to New York?"

"Well, you should talk to your dad. Find out what his plans are. But I don't think you _have to_ do anything, honey. Your dad has never had custody of you. You know I can't make any promises, but I've talked to our lawyer about it, and I really believe that you don't have to go with your dad unless you want to."

Bree sighs. "I don't know what I want. I mean, I'm pretty sure I don't want to live with him. But I'm afraid if I tell him that, he won't want to see me anymore."

"Well, it's always possible he won't get parole, and you won't ever have to make this decision." I shove pizza crust in my mouth while I think about how to say what I want to say. "I want to say one thing, but I don't want you to think I'm trying to sway your opinion. You know I'm just trying to help you make the right decision for you, right?"

Bree nods.

"If you think your dad wouldn't want to see you if you told him you didn't want to live with him, that says something about him, doesn't it? Or at least how you feel about him?"

She's quiet for a minute while she chews. "I think he thinks I'll choose you because you have money. He keeps bringing it up. Like, 'I know they're rich, but they aren't blood.'"

"Oh. Oh. Well…." I sigh. Living in LA and working with people who own helicopters and planes can warp your perception of wealth, but I grew up drinking powdered milk and eating Vienna sausage, and I know the life Edward and I have is one my parents – and most people – could only imagine. "Look, you'll be eighteen in just over a year, hon. You're capable of making your own decisions, and you're entitled to your reasons. I guess all I can say is that I hope if you stay with us it isn't just because we have money. And if you decide you want to go with your dad, I hope it isn't just to prove him wrong. I'm not going to say 'money doesn't matter,' because that's ridiculous, but you know it's not the only thing that matters, right?"

Bree nods. "I'm not saying that's what matters to me. But that's why I don't think he'll want to have anything to do with me."

"Well, I hope that isn't the case, but if it is, at some point you'll just have to make a decision. Just know that we'll back you up, whatever your decision is."

The sound of a wailing child pierces the air, so I get up to head downstairs and Bree follows. "Whatever else is going on, if you want to go to New York next weekend, I'll take you, okay?"

We spend Saturday putting up the Christmas trees that Emmett delivered, a big one in the living room and a smaller one in the family room downstairs. Watching Edward manhandle Christmas trees still turns me on, but nothing puts a lid on lust like having four kids around. Edward invites his dad over, and Carlisle joins us in the afternoon for some decorating and dinner. After we eat, I ask Bree and Riley to keep Cassie and Lulu occupied for a little while so Edward and I can talk to Carlisle alone.

"So, Dad, we wanted to talk to you about something," Edward starts. "I kind of got the impression, while Bella was in LA, that you might be lonely."

Carlisle's eyes go wide. "Oh God. You're not going to try to set me up with someone, are you?"

"What? No – God – No." Edward scowls. "Just thinking about it makes me want to throw up."

"Me too," Carlisle says. Edward shudders.

"Okay, I think we're getting off-track." I smile at Carlisle. "We've been wondering if maybe you'd like to move in here."

"Here? Where?" Carlisle looks around like we're going to make him sleep on the couch.

"The guest cabin, if you want," I tell him. "It's very private and cozy, but it's a little bit removed from the house, and it can be a slippery hike up and down the hill in winter, so if you'd rather live in the main house, we could convert the family room downstairs into a bedroom."

"I talked to Emmett," Edward says. "I didn't say anything about you moving in; I just asked him what we could do if we needed another bedroom. He said he could put up a wall downstairs in less than a week. It would take longer to add a bathroom so you don't have to share with two teenagers, but we're still just talking about a few weeks."

"You guys have given this a lot of thought."

I smile at him. "Only recently. But you should know that it's a no brainer for us. If you want to live here, we'd love to have you. Without a second thought."

"Well, it would help Alice out…" Carlisle says.

"I don't care—" Edward starts, but I interrupt him before he gets too graphic in describing his feelings for his sister.

"This isn't about Alice. That's your house. You built that house with Esme. If you want to stay there, it doesn't matter what we want or what Alice wants."

Carlisle nods and looks at his plate for a moment. "It doesn't really feel like our house, though. Most of the time we spent in that house, we were old and sick, and I don't remember Esme like that. I remember her young and healthy, chasing you kids around. And Max, remember our dog Max?" Carlisle smiles tearfully at Edward. "I remember her in our old house."

I look at Edward and I see tears in his eyes too. Losing Esme was heartbreaking for everyone. She never stood a chance when her cancer came back. She passed away less than three months after they diagnosed her.

"Would you want to move back to your old house?"

Carlisle smiles sadly at me and shakes his head. "No, it makes me happy to know that Rose and Emmett are living there. It made Esme happy, too. And I – you know, I think of Esme a handful of times every day, and every time I do, I feel like I did the day after she died. If I lived in that house, I think I would drown." Carlisle rubs his eyes. "I never thought I'd be the one…left behind."

I reach over to squeeze Carlisle's hand, and when I hear Edward sniffle, I reach under the table with my free hand to rub his leg.

"Besides, she built this house, too," Carlisle says brightly after a moment, but I can still see tears in his eyes. "She loved building this house for you guys – with you guys. She put so much love into it." He looks around and sniffles. "Are you sure about this? You guys already have a full house."

"Oh, we were hoping to put you to work," I smile at him. "If we're going to write the script for HBO, we could use some help looking after the kids, especially Cassie and Lulu. It's not like we want you to take the place of a nanny or something. We just thought you could help us free up some time for writing."

"We don't want you to feel obligated, Dad," Edward says. "We wouldn't be asking if we didn't think you'd be interested for your own reasons. If you aren't, we won't be upset."

Carlisle nods. "I need to think about it. Don't get me wrong, I'd love to live with you guys. I love you and I love your kids. I just want to make sure it feels like the right thing for everyone. I need to talk to Rose and Emmett and make sure they don't mind. They don't count on me as much as they used to, but I don't want them or their girls to feel like I'm abandoning them."

"Of course, take your time," I say.

"Edward, you need to fix this thing with Alice. I know you're friends with Jasper, but she's your sister. You can't take sides against her. You just can't."

"It's not about Jasper, Dad. She's been impossible, for a really long time. And God forbid anyone challenge her. She kicked Jasper out of the house rather than change her behavior. Anytime we try to talk to her, she acts like she was the only one who lost Mom, like she suffered more than the rest of us. She doesn't get to treat people badly for the rest of her life because Mom died."

"I know, son, but antagonizing her isn't working. We have to figure out a better way to approach her."

Edward sighs, but he nods his agreement.

"Speaking of, has she said anything to either of you about the trip to St. John? When I had dinner with them last night, she made a couple comments that made it sound like she didn't want to go."

Edward and I look at each other, and I shake my head. "She hasn't said anything to me."

"I'm gonna call her," Edward grumbles, but when he pulls his cell phone out of his pocket, I grab it from him.

"Out of the three of us, you really think you're the best person to talk to her?" I ask.

"Don't worry about it, guys," Carlisle says. "I'll ask her about it. I shouldn't have mentioned it before I had. I'm sorry."

I wish I could give you a simple explanation for what happened with Alice, but I can't. I know as well as anyone that she can be stubborn, self-righteous, and self-involved, but she can also be thoughtful, generous and selfless. We were living in LA when Alice had her boys, but we heard often about her helicopter mom tendencies from Emmett and Rose. It was pretty run-of-the-mill stuff until a couple years ago, when she decided that her boys were getting sick too often, and she dragged them from doctor to doctor until she found a homeopath who diagnosed them with "sensitivities," which apparently are like allergies, but you can't prove they exist. The homeopath told Alice to cut out gluten and nuts and get rid of her cleaning products – and, conveniently, replace them with a whole bunch of cleaning products that the homeopath sold, as well as a boatload of vitamins and supplements. She tried to convince Alice she needed to replace all the furniture in her house, but Jasper refused to go along with that. Then she got in a fight with the boys' school when they wouldn't follow her dietary rules without a note from a medical doctor, so she pulled them out of school. She and Jasper fought about homeschooling the boys, then they fought about moving to a different school district; they finally settled on enrolling the boys in a private school an hour away from their house.

Alice's relationship with her parents became strained during the allergy fight; as a (now retired) doctor, Carlisle didn't object to homeopathy as long as it didn't supplant medical care, but he thought this particular homeopath was taking advantage of Alice. When Esme's cancer returned, Alice practically disappeared. She said she was busy with the boys, and of course she was, like every parent is, but she was almost never around. Instead, she decided to go back to working at Jasper's restaurant – for no reason that any of us could discern – and she was downright terrible to the employees. They lost a bunch of staff before Jasper put his foot down and barred her from the restaurant, and she retaliated by kicking him out of the house. Even after all that, the black mold thing has us all flummoxed. She and Jasper have enough money that she could've moved while they put their house on the market, but she fixated on the idea of moving in with Carlisle.

The whole thing is confusing. It seems like everything in Alice's life has gone wrong, but it also seems like most of what has gone wrong is her fault, and she can't help but make it worse. Edward thinks she's doing it to get attention, but all the attention she gets is negative. I don't understand it, and I have no idea how to fix it, especially since Alice and I barely talk anymore. We get along well enough, but all our conversations are superficial.

On Sunday, Edward and Emmett go to Jasper's apartment to watch football, and Bree and Riley go into town for Christmas shopping, so the girls and I spend a quiet day at home. We all meet up at Emmett and Rose's house for dinner with Carlisle, Alice and her boys. After we get home and put Cassie and Lulu to bed, I find Edward videoconferencing with Emmett and Rose on the couch in our bedroom.

"What's up, guys?" I ask after I settle next to him.

"Jasper has a girlfriend," Emmett says.

"WHAT?" I look at Edward, who nods sullenly.

"She watched the game with us today. She was there when we got there a few weeks ago, but this was the first time she stuck around. And she was all…touchy-feely with him. They acted like a real couple," Emmett says.

"Who is she?" Rose asks.

"It's Maria, that bartender from the restaurant…" Edward starts.

"Oh God," I say at the same time I hear Rose say, "Fuck."

"What's wrong?" Emmett asks.

"Alice hates Maria. Haaaaaaaaates her. Always thought she was flirting with Jasper. She tried to fire her, right before they split up," I explain.

"Alice DID fire her," Rose says. "Jasper hired her back. When Alice finds out…" Rose shakes her head. "Psssssshhhooww." She pantomimes a bomb exploding with her hands. "None of us will ever, ever be right about anything again."

"We're not right about anything now," Edward grumbles.

"She will hold this over Rose and me until the day we die," I say.

"Which might be soon, if Alice has her way. Is it serious?" Rose asks.

"It didn't sound like it was a couple weeks ago, but they were very…" Emmett trails off.

"Couple-y," Edward says. "She wants us all to have dinner, you and Rose included."

"Oh, so that's when Alice will kill us," I say. "When did it start? Do you think Jasper was cheating?"

Edward shakes his head. "Jas said Alice had him served with divorce papers at the restaurant last month, and he crawled inside a bottle of whiskey. Maria drove him home and that's when they...started." I hear Emmett whistling and I turn to the screen to see him making a hole with one hand and sliding the index finger of his other hand in and out of it, in case Rose or I are confused about what they "started" doing.

"Alice is gonna lose her mind, and it's really not fair," Rose says. "Not when she's fucking the black mold guy."

"WHAT?" Edward exclaims. "Wait, the guy who lives in the house with the black mold, or the guy who's fixing the black mold?"

"The guy who lives in the house," I say, and smile at him apologetically when he turns to me.

"She makes those boys walk around the neighborhood in those stupid paper masks, and she's _sleeping_ with the guy with the black mold?" He asks incredulously.

"Well, if we're being honest, she barely lets those kids out in the neighborhood at all anymore," I say.

"And it's not like they're fucking in a pile of black mold," Rose mutters. "Presumably. I doubt they're tracking it into the house."

"That's not the point!" Edward exclaims. I rub his leg and shush him because Cassie and Lulu are fighting sleep in the bedroom right below ours.

"This is why we need to talk," Emmett says. "I know we've all been hoping for them to get back together, but it doesn't look like it's going to happen, and we need to make peace with Alice. Especially if she's going to live next door to us." They both glare at Edward and I through the screen, so it's clear Carlisle spoke to them since we had dinner with him last night.

"Are you guys mad?" I ask.

"Not about Dad," Emmett says. "A change of scenery will be good for him. I'll miss having him next door, but we're so busy these days that we barely see him anyway. And it's not like he's moving to Timbuktu."

"We're pissed about living next door to Typhoid Alice," Rose says. "God, she's gonna make us throw out all our bread," she groans.

"I'm with Rose," Edward says. "I've been putting up with her shit for thirty years—"

"Oh, for God's sake, Edward," Emmett interjects with a roll of his eyes. "She did the exact same shit to both of us. She was a bratty kid! You don't see me whining about how she ratted me out to Mom and Dad thirty years ago."

"She was _twelve_ when you went to college, Emmett," Edward protests.

"Oh, you poor thing. Living across the hall from a teenage girl. It's amazing you survived. You should write a memoir."

"Fuck you, Em." Edward crosses his arms and glares at the screen.

"Okay, take a breather, guys," I say. "This isn't about anything Alice did twenty years ago. This is about what's happening with her now. Emmett's right about that part." Edward glares at me, so I start rubbing his leg again. "We need to find a way to make peace with her. This shit with Alice weighs on Carlisle. He doesn't deserve that."

"Make peace with her _how_?" Rose asks. "Do you honestly believe there's some magic combination of words that will snap her out of it? Jasper couldn't figure out a way through her bullshit, but we can?"

"No," Emmett says. "We're not going to snap her out of it. We're going to deal with it. We're going to be the bigger people. When she starts talking about how much she misses Mom, we aren't going to say 'I miss her too' and stomp away, _Edward_." Emmett glares at Edward through the screen and Edward flips him off. "Look, I don't understand half the stuff she's done either. But she's our sister, and whatever the cause, she's clearly very unhappy. We don't have to agree with her about everything to be more supportive."

Rose sighs. "I'm not throwing out my fucking bread," she grumbles.

Edward's still grumpy when we get ready for bed. I sit on the bed and put a pillow in my lap, and Edward lies down so I can scratch my fingers through his hair.

"She was _terrible_ when we were growing up, Bella," he says.

"I know she was, honey." I'm glad he's facing away from me so he can't see me smile. Everyone has their third rail, the opinion that is impervious to reason or persuasion, and his is that his sister is a monster. "I know I wasn't around when you were kids. But I remember lots of times when she was a good friend to you – to both of us. We might not have gotten together without her…determination."

"I know that," he grumbles. "But it was all about her. She decided we should be together, she manipulated us to make it happen, she got to take credit for it."

"Maybe," I shrug. "But I don't care who caused it or who took credit for it. I'm just glad it happened."

Edward rolls onto his back so he can look up at me. "Fine," he sighs, after looking at me for a few moments. "You win."

I put my hand over my heart and pretend to swoon. "Oh, I win! How romantic."

Edward snorts and grabs my hand, pulling it to his mouth so he can kiss my palm. "I do adore you, sweetheart."

"That's more like it."

He sighs and presses my hand to his chest. "I don't know how to be better," he says. "I don't know how to be nicer to Alice…or Matt. Or pretend I trust Matt every time I talk to Bree."

"Well, we both know how shitty you are at pretending. And you don't have to trust Matt. You just have to trust Bree. If Matt's playing her, she'll figure it out." I scratch his scalp with my free hand, and he closes his eyes. "If I ask you a question, will you answer honestly, ignoring how you think the answer might make me feel?"

Edward snorts. "As you just said, I'm incapable of doing anything else."

"When we first got together, did you ever suspect I was interested in you only for your money?"

Edward opens his eyes and smirks at me. "Is this your way of telling me the jig is up?"

"I'm just curious."

"Babe, I spent a great deal of time wondering why you were interested in me. But if the money sweetened the pot, I certainly wasn't going to complain."

I narrow my eyes at him. "Is that really how you felt? After everything you had been through…"

Edward chuckles. "Bella, I was convinced you hated me with a deep and abiding passion right up until the moment you kissed me. And for a good while after that, in fact. It was like you liked me in spite of yourself."

I laugh. "Edward, I would have said the exact same thing about you."

"See? We're made for each other." He grins at me. "Look, when people want something from you, that desperation always shows itself, if you're paying attention. And back then, I was _always_ paying attention. But you didn't push. You didn't unpack any of your stuff for, like, six months after you moved into my apartment. Some days I thought I'd come home from walking the dogs and find you gone, but I knew you'd never leave Samson behind. Hell, you almost left me because I tried to get you a promotion—" I open my mouth to object, but Edward presses a finger to my lips "—and don't even tell me you didn't." I bite his finger and he smirks. "If anyone was desperate in this relationship, it was me. And honestly…"

Edward's smirk turns thoughtful and he turns pink from his cheeks to his ears.

"Honestly?" I prompt.

"You make my life so much better, Bella. Every day that you're in it. Even if you had gotten tired of me…." He looks up at me and swallows, and the emotion in his eyes knocks me out. "Even if you do get tired of me one day, I would happily trade every penny for the time we've spent together."

I know Edward loves me, but the depth of his emotion sometimes surprises me. I scruff up his hair and pull his hand to me so I can kiss it.

"I want you to read something."

While Edward brushes his teeth and gets ready for bed, I dig around in the office we share around the corner from our bedroom. When I get back to the bedroom, I hand Edward a folded up letter and climb onto the bed next to him.

"You remember Dr. Sanchez in LA? She wanted me to write a letter to my dad, to express all the things I couldn't say to him. So this is eight, maybe nine years old? I don't remember exactly."

"You're sure you want me to read it?" Edward asks.

"Yep. Something you said made me think of it." I shrug. "It might not mean anything to you, who knows."

 _Hi Dad._

 _I miss you. I still think about you almost every day. I think about you every time I watch football. I think about you every time I watch baseball too, but that almost never happens because baseball is so goddamn boring. I think about you every time I'm lying on the couch and Samson wants to squeeze on the couch next to me like you taught him. I think about you every time I go to the movies, because I've never met anyone who loves movie theater popcorn like you did. I think about you every time I eat shrimp, because of that time I got sick at the Red Lobster, which is weird and kind of irritating. I met Stephen King not too long ago and I got his autograph for you before I remembered I had no way to give it to you._

 _You are responsible for so many of my best traits. You wanted me to be smart and brave and stand up for people who couldn't stand up for themselves. You were my best friend. When I lived with my mom, I felt like I was living with someone who came from another planet. We fought about everything and nothing. When I moved in with you, I found someone who thought and felt and lived the same way, and it was such a relief. I loved you so much, and I never doubted that you loved me just as much. You were my favorite person in the world, and I knew I was yours. You didn't have to tell me; I knew because I was the only person you were always happy to see._

 _But you broke my heart. You sat there in your favorite chair, with all our friends gathered around, and you told them about how you cheated on my mom and knocked up two women and decided to raise me and abandon my half-sibling. You told that story like you were recalling something funny that happened at work. You told that story with a smile on your face, and I sat right next to you and pretended that I wasn't collapsing in on myself. How could you do that? How could you know me the way you did and take care of me the way you did, and not know that story would crush me? I wanted to die that night. I wanted to drive to the cliffs and jump into the sea and wait for the currents to pull me under, so that I would never have to face you or think about what you did ever again._

 _After you died, I left Forks, like you told me to. I thought I left to make a different kind of life for myself, but I've come to realize that I fled, and I fled because I was ashamed. Did you feel ashamed when you told that story? That night poisoned my relationship with Jake, Jake's dad, and everyone else who was there. The shame I felt when you told that story, I felt it every time I saw them. I couldn't have stayed there if I wanted to. I couldn't even look them in the eye anymore. I left behind my entire life because everyone I loved knew the most shameful thing about me._

 _I still don't entirely understand why that story made me feel so ashamed. I've been seeing a therapist, and she has lots of ideas. Maybe it's because I built you up so much in my mind that learning you were so far from perfect made me feel unmoored. Maybe it's because I identified so much with you that I felt the shame you should have. Maybe I'm embarrassed that the person I loved so much, put before everyone else in my life, hurt me so deeply and so carelessly. I don't know why, but there is one thing about which I'm completely clear. I can remember a dozen times when you and your friends or relatives made fun of my mom, called her flaky or crazy or dishonest. For all my mother's flaws, I don't remember her ever doing the same. I remember a handful of times when you told stories about how terrible it was to be married to my mom, and how much you didn't want to have kids. I don't remember my mom ever doing the same. My mom emptied out my bedroom the same day I moved to Forks, but she has never made me feel as unwanted as you did. Fuck you for making me listen to a bunch of people call my mother names. Fuck you for acting like the aggrieved party when you knocked up two women at the same time and abandoned one of them. Fuck you for what you did to my mom. She didn't deserve it._

 _I wish I could say that I forgive you and that this whole thing helped me discover my inner strength or whatever. None of that happened. I go to therapy and I listen to my therapist talk about forgiveness and I still don't know how to do it. I try not to think about that day much because I can't think about it without crying. I cried the hardest the day I realized that you were never my best friend, because my best friend never, ever would have done that to me. It's been five years and I don't know how to put that pain behind me. Maybe it would have been better if I had talked to you about it, but that's not who we were. Maybe if I had, you would have apologized, told me you were wrong and you never regretted having me, and it would have made everything okay again. I think it's more likely you would have said I was being melodramatic and overemotional, just like my mom, and I would've swallowed my feelings to prove that I wasn't._

 _So I don't know how to forgive you, and I drag this sadness and shame around behind me like a black cloud. But I do have to thank you for making me run to the other side of the country, because I got lucky, very lucky. I found a kind, generous, smart, loving man who made some mistakes for which he can't forgive himself. I know his shame and he knows mine and we forgive each other and take care of each other. He didn't fix me, but he made me want to fix myself, so I could feel more like the person he sees, because she sounds pretty great. Our life together isn't always easy, but even when it's hard, I know that he's the best thing that ever happened to me. I didn't trust him at the beginning, didn't trust my feelings for him, didn't trust his feelings for me. I thought loving someone would inevitably lead to pain, so I pulled away. I didn't think it was possible that someone could see me honestly, see every bit of me – even the parts my parents hated – and still want to be with me, so I hid. I thought marriage would tear us apart or make us cruel, so I resisted. I was wrong. His love makes me strong, and brave, and safe. Because of him, I feel loved every minute of every day, even when I have trouble loving myself. I didn't know that feeling before I met him. I didn't even know it was possible to be loved like this. I know that's not solely your fault._

 _I still love you. I still miss you. But I wish you had taken that fucking story to your grave._

I roll up in the duvet while Edward turns out the lights. He puts his arms around me and rubs my back for a few minutes. I'm nowhere near as emotional as I used to be about my dad, but even now I can't think about him without getting sad, especially when I think about how alone I was after he died, how much I isolated myself, and what it could have cost me.

"I wish I could make it better," he murmurs.

"You do," I tell him. "You make everything better. Except my relationship with Alice."

He laughs and pulls me closer. "Thank you for letting me read it."

* * *

Bree and Riley have a week of school left before Christmas break, and Cassie goes to preschool three days a week, so we spend most of the following week feeding children and driving them around and looking for missing socks. On Wednesday, we have both girls at home, and Carlisle comes to watch them, so we get to spend some time going over Edward's outline for the movie. After making a few changes, we send it to Grace to beg for her feedback because I'm not ready to give up on her yet.

Bree decides that she wants to visit her dad on Family Day, so we pack up my car on Friday night so we can leave early Saturday morning while Edward stays home with Riley and the girls. It's a long drive to the prison, which is about an hour west of Syracuse, and then a long afternoon of sitting and waiting and standing in line at the prison, so after Bree spends an hour with Matt, we spend the night in a Syracuse hotel and drive home on Sunday.

"My dad asked me to put money in his commissary account," Bree announces while we're driving home.

"He did?" I want to be nonchalant, but my voice comes out high and squeaky.

"Not, like, out of the blue. I apologized for the fact that I couldn't bring a Christmas present into the prison for him, and he said it would mean just as much to him if I put money in his account."

"How do you feel about that?" I ask – in what I hope sounds more like my normal speaking voice – and I see her shrug out of the corner of my eye.

"That's what you guys are afraid of, right? That he's just interested in me because you guys have money?"

Ugh. "It's not about the money, believe me. There's a Rose-shaped wall between our money and anyone who wants it, and your allowance is yours to spend how you want. If you want to give it to your dad, that's your decision. We just don't want him to hurt you."

Bree's quiet for a minute. "I don't know how I'm ever going to trust him," she says finally.

I sigh. "I wish I could say something that would make you feel better," I say. "At the risk of sounding like a spoiled old rich lady, the worst thing about having money is that it makes you distrust other people's motives."

She doesn't respond, so we're quiet for a few miles.

"I will say this, hon. You've seen so much in the first part of your life, so much more than most people do in their entire lives. I've never worked so hard to gain someone's trust as I did with you." She laughs, but it's true. "If your dad is falling short, maybe it's just because he's out of practice. I'm not saying you should trust him, or that you should give him money. But I know it's much, much easier to push people away than let them in. Just don't write him off unless you're absolutely sure."

Bree sighs dramatically. "Why are you defending him? I thought you guys wanted to adopt me."

That sounds like teenage glibness, but on this subject, I want to be sure she understands. "We do, Bree. But you said you want a relationship with your dad, and we're respecting that." I'm frustrated having this conversation when I can't look Bree in the eyes, so I pull off the highway at a rest stop, and once I'm in a parking space, I turn to face her. "I want to be real clear about something, honey. I know you haven't had a lot of control over things that happen in your life. This isn't one of those times, at least as far as Edward and me are concerned. We pulled back on your adoption because you wanted a relationship with your dad. Don't mistake that for a lack of interest or concern. We're doing our very best to hear you and respect what you want. You don't have to make a decision until you're ready. But you need to be clear and honest with us about what you want, because if you aren't, we can't help you get it."

Bree nods and looks at the bracelets she's been fiddling with. "What do you think I should tell him about the money?"

"I would do one of two things: either not give him the money, not bring it up, and see if he does, or, the next time you talk to him, tell him how you feel about him asking, and see what he says. Sixteen year old me would do the first thing. Forty year old me would do the second."

"So I guess that's the mature thing to do?"

I shrug. "I don't know about maturity. I just have a lot of experience with regret. My dad said some stuff before he died that hurt me as much as anything anyone ever said to me. I didn't bring it up, never told him how I felt, just pretended it didn't happen. And now, fifteen years later, it still ties me up in knots. I don't know if I would've felt better if I had brought it up. But at least I wouldn't be _wondering_ if I would've felt better."

"What did he say?" asks my little bloodhound.

"He told me he had a relationship with another woman while he was married to my mom, and they both got pregnant at the same time. He decided to stay with my mom, and told the other woman to have an abortion."

"Did she?"

I shrug. "As far as I know. A while back, Rose convinced me to hire a private detective to track her down, and there weren't any public records of her having a baby around that time. She could have put the baby up for adoption, but I couldn't find out any more without talking to her, and I just didn't feel like barging into her life and dredging up bad memories. Whatever happened, I figure Swans have caused her enough pain already."

"Wow. That sucks."

I smile. "We've all got our stuff, honey."

As we get close to home, I decide to put Bree's instincts to work. "Hey, can I ask you something? What do you think is going on with Alice?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you're good at figuring people out. What do you think about Alice? Is she just having a ton of bad luck?"

"She's full of it. No offense."

"You mean about the allergies and stuff?"

"That allergy stuff is BS, but I don't think it's all made up. Like, that black mold thing is really happening, right? I don't think she makes stuff up, I just think she leaves stuff out. None of the stuff she talks about is her fault, you know? Every _single_ thing that happens to her is someone else's fault. No one's luck is that bad."

"Hm. What do you think she's leaving out?"

"I dunno. Something about their divorce? Nothing I've heard about it makes sense. Like, they got divorced because they couldn't agree on a school? Or because Alice wanted to work at the restaurant and Jasper wouldn't let her? Are those actual reasons why people get divorced?"

"No, you're right, it doesn't make sense. But divorces can be tough to make sense of. Two people never tell the same story about why they're getting divorced, and there's almost always stuff they'd rather not admit, even to themselves. I'm sure there's stuff they're not telling us."

"I bet that stuff doesn't make Alice look good," Bree says.

"Hm. You should be a detective, my girl."

"Do I have to go to college for that?"

"YES."

"Ugh."

* * *

On Monday, I take Cassie into pre-school and Edward stays home with Lulu so I can pick up a few last things for Christmas, but I have an ulterior motive. We're flying the whole family to the Caribbean on Thursday, the day after Christmas, but Alice is still making noise about not going, so I want to try to sneak in a visit to Jasper. I know it's just one little vacation, but if she misses it, it'll be just one more thing to drive a wedge between Alice and the rest of the family. I'm happy when I see his truck in the parking lot at his restaurant, and mortified when I walk into his office and find him kissing Maria.

"I'm happy to see you, but kind of surprised," Jasper says, after Maria leaves.

"Yeah, sorry about that. I should have called. I just…need your help."

"With what?"

"Things are really bad between Alice and everyone else. She barely talks to any of us anymore. I know more about her life from the Woodstock Elementary grapevine than I do from Alice herself. She doesn't want to go to St. John with us, and I can't make heads or tails of it. I feel like there's some part of the story we're missing. I know I'm putting you in a shitty position, but I'm just trying to fix things, and I don't know what else to do. Is there anything you guys haven't told us about? Anything I could help with?"

Jasper sighs, leans back in his chair, and runs his hands through his curly hair. "She's gonna kill me," he mutters.

"Please, Jasper?" I beg. "I just want to help. You know I love you guys, both of you."

With a sigh, Jasper snaps his chair down and smacks his palms on his desk. "Fuck it." He shakes his head. "We're in trouble…financially. More than that. We're broke. We've been circling the drain for a while now." Jasper looks at me and nods. "Yeah. We had saved up a bunch, we were looking into opening up another restaurant, maybe in Stowe or Manchester. Alice was gung ho, but I was dragging my feet because of how hard it was to get this place off the ground. Anyway, while we were fighting about it, a friend of mine from culinary school appeared out of the blue, looking for partners for a restaurant he was opening in Burlington. He said he had a bunch of other investors lined up, and a great location – he sent me videos of the place and everything. It seemed perfect." Jasper shakes his head and sighs. "I just didn't do the due diligence. I should have asked to meet the other partners. I should have taken Rose to meet him and see the place. I should have done lots of things." Jasper crosses his arms. "He called in the middle of the quote-unquote _renovations_ and said there was more work than he expected, and he needed more money. When I said there wasn't any more money, that he'd have to ask his other partners, he got really…dodgy. That was the last time I talked to him. When he didn't get back to me for a month, I drove up to Burlington. There was 'for lease' sign on the building, and no sign of construction. I called the agent, and he'd taken Shawn on a tour of the place – that's how he made the video he sent me – but he hadn't heard from him in months. He just disappeared, and so did our money. Shut off his phone, disappeared from Facebook…he was just gone."

"Did you go to the cops?"

"Yeah, but they couldn't find him. They said he probably left the state, maybe even left the country. The cops checked with the FBI, but the FBI wouldn't get involved without evidence that Shawn's fraud crossed state lines. Alice wanted to hire an investigator to pursue it, but it felt like throwing good money after bad, you know? Even if we tracked him down, who's to say we would have got our money back? Anyway, it was terrible, but it was survivable, financially. But we didn't have a cushion anymore, so when all the stuff happened with the boys, we started to go into debt. We've been paying tuition with our credit cards, but they're maxed out. Now we've got two households to support, and divorce attorneys to pay…we're in bad shape. We're going to have to sell the restaurant to settle the divorce, so I've been talking to a realtor about putting it up for sale now, but selling a restaurant takes time. In the short term, we're just trying to hold it together. I'm going to move in with Maria in January so I won't have rent to pay. We have one month to figure out how to pay the spring semester tuition. We're talking about borrowing against the house, but that just feels so foolish…" Jasper shakes his head. "The equity in the house is the only thing we have to look forward to."

"Why didn't you guys just ask us for money?"

Jasper smiles wistfully. "Alice and I don't have much in common anymore, but we are two prideful creatures. I wanted to ask, I think about it every time I see Edward. When we were still together, Alice said no. No way. She didn't want everyone knowing how we fucked up, especially after everything you all did to help u get this place off the ground. And now that we're getting divorced, am I going to ask Edward to help me divorce his sister?" Jasper shakes his head. "It's our own fault. It's my fault we lost our savings. That school is too expensive – that's been true for two years. She spends all our money on that doctor. Part of me feels like we don't deserve your help."

"I'm not sure if Alice knows this, but Edward and I asked Carlisle to move in with us. If he does, she could move into his house – would that help?"

Jasper shakes his head. "We've still got to pay the mortgage until the house sells. If she moves to Carlisle's, we'll be in a better position when the house sells, but who knows when that will be. The real estate market around here moves so slowly."

"Jasper…" I lower my voice, "do you even want to move in with Maria?"

"You think it's a little fast?" He grins at me, then shrugs. "What else am I going to do?"

"Oh, Jasper…"

"I know."

Someone knocks on the door to Jasper's office, and I think for a minute while he talks to one of his cooks.

"How much credit card debt do you have?" I ask when we're alone again.

"Almost $60,000," Jasper says.

"Okay, look. Edward and I can pay off your credit cards, but I'm going to have to tell him what's going on. There's no two ways about that. I'm going to work on getting Carlisle to move in with us, but that might mean telling him what's going on with you guys. Is that okay?"

Jasper shrugs. "If I'm going to hell, I might as well do it thoroughly."

"Jasper, I don't want you putting the restaurant on the market, and I don't want you to move in with Maria…I mean, do whatever you want with her, but don't move in with her just to save money, okay? I need to talk to Edward – probably our lawyer, too – but I'm thinking that we can loan the restaurant enough money to cover your settlement with Alice, and you can pay us back over time. Right?"

"Yes, but…you realize I'm not the person you need to convince, right?"

"I know. I know. I'll figure out how to talk to Alice about this after I figure out how to talk to Edward about it. Jasper, I'm sorry, but the school…is going to be a problem for Edward. He isn't going to like the idea of paying for it."

Jasper nods slowly. "I get it, I do. Crestview is a fantastic school, and I hate to make the boys change schools again, but that was a mistake…" Jasper shakes his head. "I just threw in the towel on that. I was ashamed of losing our savings, and I stopped pushing back." Jasper leans forward and rubs his face. "There was a thing at Woodstock Elementary that I don't think Alice ever told you about. There was a teacher's aide who was…flirtatious. Nothing happened, but I didn't do enough to stop it. She sent me some topless pictures—"

"Holy crap."

"I knooooow," he moans, burying his face in his hands. "Believe me. The whole thing was so embarrassing. When Alice told me she was pulling the boys out of school, I couldn't say no. She thought everyone was talking about us."

"What a mess."

"I know."

I sigh. "Look, I don't feel right about telling you guys how to educate your kids. I just know that Edward's going to have a fit about the school tuition."

"I get it. It's your money. You shouldn't do anything you aren't comfortable with."

"Okay, I'll think about that some more. If we wipe out your credit card debt, can you handle the rest of your expenses?"

Jasper shakes his head. "I can't pay the mortgage and my rent at the same time. I know it's too early to move in with Maria, but I can't stay in my apartment."

I think about that for a moment. "If Alice moves into Carlisle's, why couldn't you move into your house, just until it sells?"

Jasper nods as he thinks. "It's a solution, but Alice will hate it."

"It just doesn't make sense to leave that house empty. And if Carlisle doesn't want to move in with us, maybe you could move into our cabin?"

"And start World War III?" Jasper says with a smirk. "Don't get me wrong – it's a very sweet offer. But Alice would never talk to you again."

"Okay. Well, let me talk to Edward, and try to figure out what Carlisle wants to do, and then I'll give you a call. "

Jasper stands up and walks around his desk, pulling me into a tight hug when I stand up.

"Thanks Bella. Really. I can't thank you enough."

Jasper has tears in his eyes, so I grab his shoulders. "You're family, Jasper. You'll always be family. I hate that we don't see you anymore…" I start to get choked up because Jasper really is like a brother to me. Jasper nods tearfully and hugs me again.

I want to talk to Edward today, because it feels like we've lost too much time already. I hate thinking about all the stress Alice and Jasper have been under the past few years. And I know I need Edward in the best possible mood for this conversation. After I pick up Cassie at pre-school, I pick up a tray of lasagna from Edward's favorite Italian restaurant so he won't have to cook. At home, I tell Cassie and Lulu that Santa mailed us an early Christmas present for each of them, but we've been instructed to only give it to them on Christmas Eve if they're well behaved. After we put the girls to bed, I pull him into our bedroom.

"We need to talk about something, and I want you to try, really try, to listen without getting worked up."

"When have I _ever_ ," he says with mock outrage. "You know, when you said we needed to talk in the bedroom, I really thought we'd be doing something else." He waggles his eyebrows.

"Fine," I roll my eyes. "If you make it through this conversation without calling your sister names, I'll give you a blowjob."

He recoils, his face a picture of disgust. "You think talking about Alice is going to put me in the mood for a blowjob?"

I sigh. "I'll owe you one, okay? We need to have a serious conversation."

He takes my hand and smiles conciliatorily. "Sorry."

"So I went to see Jasper today, kind of cornered him at the restaurant. You know how I've had this feeling that there's something going on with Alice that we didn't know, something she's hiding? Well, he told me that they're broke. Beyond broke, really. Badly in debt."

He frowns. "But the restaurant was doing so well. We used to get those statements—"

"The restaurant is fine. They were setting aside a bunch of money to open another restaurant, and long story short, they were swindled, so their savings is gone. They have two households now, Alice's mortgage and Jasper's rent, and they're both paying for attorneys. They've been putting the boys' tuition on their credit cards, which are maxed out—"

"That damn school, I swear to God—"

"I hear you, I do, and I agree with you. Jasper agrees with you. They can't afford that school. But that money has been spent. If we refuse to help them out because of how they spent the money, they're going to sell the restaurant."

"That's stupid."

"I agree! Look, I know they got themselves into it. But they're drowning, and we have the means to help them."

Edward throws his head back on the sofa and makes a growly noise in the back of his throat. "How much are we talking about?"

"$60,000 will cover their credit card debt. They have that much in equity in their house, so we could give them a no-interest loan and get it back when they sell their house. They're stuck with the mortgage until they sell the house, but if your dad moves here—"

"He told me he wants to. He wants to wait to talk to the kids after Christmas, but if the kids are all okay with it, he'll start packing when we get home from St. John."

"Good. Okay. So if Alice moves in to Carlisle's house, Jasper can move into Alice's house. He'll have to move when the house sells, but at least they won't be paying for two houses."

"What if we bought their house? They'd get their equity out, and we could flip it, maybe hire Emmett to do some renovations first."

"Are you sure that's something you want to do? That'll take a whole lot more money, and we haven't talked about the restaurant yet."

"What about the restaurant?"

"Well, when divorce goes through, they'll have to divide up assets, and the restaurant is the big one. Jasper won't be able to afford to buy Alice out of the restaurant, so they'll probably have to sell. I want to loan Jasper the money to buy Alice out so he can keep it."

Edward scowls. "So we're giving Jasper money so he can give my sister money?"

"Well, lending, and we already know the restaurant is a good investment."

"I don't like it."

"I told Jasper we'd have to talk to our lawyer about that one, try to figure out the best way to do it, so we can look into it some more. There's no urgency to that, they just started divorce proceedings so it will take some time. If we can reduce their monthly expenses, I think that will make a huge difference for them."

Edward pulls off his glasses and throws his head back, rubbing his face. "If we give her money, pay off her debts, she's just going to go back into debt to pay that tuition."

"If you want to try to talk to her about the school again, I'm open to it, but there's something you should know first. There was this…thing at Woodstock Elementary that they didn't tell us about. A teacher's aide with a crush on Jasper." Edward's eyebrows rise. "Jasper said nothing happened, but he didn't do enough discourage her, she sent him topless pictures…it was a whole thing. Honestly, I can't blame Alice completely for wanting to change schools."

Edward sighs and plays with my fingers for a minute. "Man, everything really went wrong for them, didn't it?"

"I got the impression it started when they lost the money. Alice was mad at Jasper, Jasper was mad at himself. At least, that's when it started for Jasper. I wonder what Alice would say."

Edward nods, but keeps his eyes trained on our hands. "I feel bad," he says.

"For Alice?"

"For both of them," he says. "But yes, for Alice. I've been blaming her for all of it."

"I think we all have."

"Why wouldn't she tell us about all that? If she wanted sympathy, she would have had it."

"I dunno, honey. I haven't had a real conversation with Alice in years. But we've all got stuff we're ashamed of. Alice must find it easier to be isolated than have this all in the open. No one wants to talk about their money problems. Some of my earliest memories are of my parents fighting over money, late night duels in the kitchen. They were brutal."

Edward releases my hand so he can rub his eyes. "We should talk to my dad."

I nod, and Edward pulls out his cell phone. "Now?" I ask him. "It's a little late to call your dad."

"I'm texting Jasper."

 _What happened with the teacher_ , he texts.

 _She was a teachers aide_ , Jasper texts back, after a moment.

Then: _She was sweet to the boys. Alice and I were fighting, Alice was fighting with the school. Tara was on my side. She came to the restaurant, kissed me, offered to do more. I said no. But she was still the boys teacher, I still had to see her._

 _Bella said nothing happened_ , Edward texts.

 _It was just a kiss. I stopped it. It didn't mean anything_ , Jasper texts.

 _Whether it means something isn't entirely up to you. And you didn't stop it, did you?_

 _She started sending me pics. I didn't know what to do._

 _Block her. Change your number. Tell the school_ , Edward texts him.

 _I didn't want to make it a bigger thing than it already was. Before I could figure out what to do, Alice saw them on my phone._

 _How long between when she started sending the pics and when Alice saw them_ , Edward texts.

Jasper doesn't get back to us for a few minutes. Then: _A week, maybe 2_.

 _Fuck you Jas_ , Edward texts. He throws his phone down with a sigh, so when it chirps, I pick it up to read Jasper's reply: _I'm sorry man._

Edward calls his dad Tuesday morning and tells him we need to talk, and after Christmas Eve dinner at Rose and Emmett's, we sneak off with him while everyone else watches _Elf_. Carlisle doesn't think Edward and Alice's relationship will benefit from him loaning her money, so he volunteers to loan her the money for her credit cards himself. We give Jasper a call to make sure he's okay with that – while Edward tries to incinerate my phone with his glare – and Carlisle plans to talk to Alice in the morning when the boys are at Jasper's.

Cassie wakes us all up before sunrise on Christmas Day, and after the kids tear through their presents and eat breakfast, they all disappear into their corners to play and nap while Edward and I get started on dinner. After I clean up the living room and Edward puts the turkey in the oven, we crash on the couch until the kids reappear with a second wind.

Emmett and Rose are the first folks to show up with their three girls and the puppy they got for Christmas, and the dogs spend the afternoon running laps around the house. Carlisle shows up right as we're getting everything on the table, with Alice's boys but no Alice. Carlisle announces that Alice isn't feeling well, which sounds suspicious since she was fine when we saw her last night, but I don't have an opportunity to pull him aside. Dinner with nine kids is a raucous affair, punctuated by barking dogs and occasional thumps when one of them chases another one into a wall or couch. I don't get a chance to talk to Carlisle in private until after dinner, when Rose and Bree offer to clean up the kitchen and Emmett and Riley take the younger kids downstairs to play videogames.

"So what's up with Alice?" Edward asks after we pull Carlisle out onto the patio and light the firepit.

"Well," he sighs. "We had a difficult conversation. We sorted everything out, but she's a little bit angry," Carlisle says with a glance at me.

"At me?"

"She's upset that we talked to Jasper rather than talking to her," Carlisle says.

Edward scoffs. "She could have talked to us at any time—"

"I know, son," Carlisle soothes. "She's embarrassed. She doesn't like having all her dirty laundry on display for everyone to pick through and criticize."

"And how about being broke and homeless? Was she looking forward to that?" Edward growls.

"Okay, honey," I rub his arm. "This morning you felt sorry for her, remember?" I turn back to Carlisle. "You said everything's sorted out?"

He nods. "We'll move in January. I'll move here, she'll move to my house, and Jasper will move into their house until it sells. I'll pay off their credit cards and they'll close those joint accounts. I told Alice that if she wants to keep the boys in Crestview, she'll have to get a job to pay for it."

"She knows the divorce settlement is coming, though," Edward says. "Why wouldn't she just run up her debt again until she gets that money?"

Carlisle shrugs. "What else can we do?" Edward opens his mouth, but Carlisle continues. "Loaning her money doesn't give us the right to dictate what she does with it. You have to decide, son. If you're going to scrutinize every decision she makes and hold it all against her, maybe it would be better if you didn't get involved. Alice wants to have a better relationship with you, Edward. If loaning her money will make that impossible, stay out of it, and I'll do my best to help them keep the restaurant."

Edward lets out a loud, dramatic sigh. "Are you sure you can afford to cover their credit card debt?"

"I'll talk to Rose when we're in St. John, but I think so. It's just until the house sells. Now, Alice doesn't want to leave with us tomorrow—"

"She's so mad at me she's going to turn down a free vacation?" Edward grumbles.

"She's not mad at you, Edward—" Carlisle starts.

"She's mad at me," I say, and Carlisle doesn't contradict me.

"But she agreed with me that the boys shouldn't miss out, so she's fine with them going. I'll be responsible for them while we're there."

"That's ridiculous," Edward says.

"No, it isn't," I say. "I get it."

"You didn't do anything wrong, Bella," Edward says.

"I should've talked to her. At the very least, I should have talked to her before I talked to you. I shouldn't have tried to solve her problems without even talking to her."

We join everyone downstairs for videogames, but I keep thinking about Alice. Maybe it was foolishly optimistic, maybe it was egotistical, but I really thought that I was fixing things. I was trying to bring us back together, and instead I made everything worse. The kids play for a little while, and everyone leaves when Cassie and Lulu start to get grumpy. Edward fights through bathtime with them while I pack their bags for tomorrow's trip.

"I need to talk to Alice," I tell Edward after the girls are in bed. "I can't leave tomorrow without trying to clear things up first."

"Tonight?" He asks. I nod.

"You want me to come?" He asks. "Bree and Riley can handle the girls if they wake up."

"No, I think both of us would be too much. You'll stick up for me, and it'll make her defensive…and you're not the one she's mad at, anyway."

Edward shrugs. "Good luck, sweetheart."

Alice's house is a cute little Victorian a few blocks away from Woodstock's Green, one of those old-fashioned houses with a thousand tiny rooms all different shapes and sizes. I figure Alice is less likely to turn me away if I'm outside her door, so I don't text her until I'm in her driveway.

 _Can we talk? I'm outside._

After a few minutes with no reply, I text again.

 _You're my sister, Alice. I love you. I want to apologize. I have pie._

After a minute, the light on Alice's front porch comes on, and she opens the door and peers out at the driveway. When I get out of my car, she goes inside but leaves the front door open. I find her on the couch in the living room and sit in the chair across from her, putting her Christmas present and half a pumpkin cheesecake on the coffee table between us.

"It's a good thing you let me in, otherwise I would have polished off that cheesecake sitting in your driveway."

"Dad already brought me some pie with the leftovers."

"Always room for more pie." She doesn't respond, just turns away and stares into the wood stove in her fireplace. "I'm sorry you missed dinner, and I'm sorry I'm the reason you missed dinner."

Alice shakes her head. "It wasn't all about you, Bella. I just...I don't know who knows what, I didn't want to have to walk on eggshells around everyone."

"That's my fault. I'm sorry I didn't talk to you, Alice." I shake my head. "I don't know how to talk to you anymore."

Alice rolls her eyes and glares at me. "You stopped trying. You all stopped trying. You wrote me off years ago. Gullible Alice and her crazy doctor." Not a doctor, but now isn't the time to mention it. "Stupid Alice and her expensive school. I was trying to keep my kids healthy. I was trying to save my marriage. I was doing my best." Alice looks back at the fire with tears in her eyes, and I feel terrible.

"You're right. We did stop trying. But Alice, you haven't been honest with us. For _years_. If I had come here on Monday, instead of going to the restaurant, if I had begged you to tell me what was really going on the way I begged Jasper – is there any chance you would have told me the truth?"

Alice looks back at me with her chin up, a look of indignation I know well. "I guess we'll never know," she says.

"No, Alice, that's a cop-out. You would've hid, just like you did tonight. You've been hiding stuff from us for years. What were you gonna do next month, when the boys' tuition is due?"

Alice looks down and picks at her pajama pants. "We'd have taken out a second mortgage."

"Can't you see…." I shake my head. "Look, I know I hurt you by going to Jasper, and I know I should've talked to you before I talked to Edward and Carlisle. But this is a better solution, right? This is a much, _much_ better solution. You see that, right?"

"Of course I do!" She exclaims, looking at me with fire in her eyes. "That's what's so frustrating. You're being so generous. Dad's being so generous. So _I'm_ the asshole. I'm the asshole who's mad at you because you're trying to help me out. I can't just be mad. Because you're helping me. I'm ashamed, and I'm mad, and I feel bad about being mad, but I'm _so fucking mad_." She shakes her head and I see tears running down her cheeks. "Jasper made a thousand bad decisions and you're all mad at _me_ because I didn't want to be married to him anymore. You talk to _him_. You help _him_. I've been drowning in shit and you've all been laughing behind my back, and now you want to help and I have to just shut up and be grateful. And I am…" Alice shakes her head, choked up, and I get up so I can sit next to her on the couch.

"You can be mad, Alice. You have every right to be angry. Really." When she doesn't respond, I continue. "I'm so sorry about what you've been going through. I'm sorry you guys lost all that money. I'm sorry about that thing with Jasper and the teacher. I'm so sorry you guys split up. And I'm really sorry you've gone through so much alone. It must have been so hard to go through all of that on your own."

Alice sniffles and wipes her eyes with the sleeves of her sweatshirt. "Jasper told you about the teacher's aide?"

"Yeah. I told Edward, but I didn't tell Carlisle. And for what it's worth, Edward's furious at him."

"What did he tell you?"

"He told me she sent some naked pictures. He told Edward that she went to the restaurant and kissed him, but he didn't tell me that part."

"He didn't say anything about a blowjob?"

"WHAT?" I recoil. "No!"

Alice nods. "Maria told me she walked in on them."

I frown. "Maria the bartender?"

Alice smirks. "Maria, the girl who is currently giving him blowjobs." Alice crosses her arms. "That's why I went back to work at the restaurant, to keep an eye on him. I thought she was just stirring up shit. Turns out she had more of a long-term plan."

"Holy shit." My mind is reeling. "Did Jasper admit to the blowjob?"

"Nope."

My frown deepens. "Does he know what Maria told you?"

"Yep."

"So…he's seeing the woman who lied about a blowjob in order to end your marriage?"

"Either that, or he's seeing the woman who told me the truth. What do you think is more likely? What do you think Jasper likes more, liars or blowjobs?"

I sit for a moment, stunned. "I don't want to think about either of those options."

"Welcome to my world," Alice sneers.

"I'm really sorry, Alice."

She nods and wipes her eyes. "It's just really hard being the one who's failing at everything when everyone else is doing so well. I would see you every week and I wanted to scream and cry. 'My marriage is over, my kids are always sick, I'm terrified I'm going to lose the house.' I thought you guys would understand about the boys, but everyone just called me a hypochondriac. What would you have said about the rest of it?"

"I guess we'll never know." When she looks up at me, I smile at her, and she rolls her eyes and scoffs. "I dunno, honey. I'd like to say that we'd have been more supportive, but who knows. With everything that happened before Esme died – we've been pretty judgmental. But I do know this: Edward feels terrible right now. I feel terrible. I know what it's like to worry about your kids and not know what to do. Bree ran away three times the first month she was at our house. Edward and I thought we were the worst foster parents in the history of foster care. One night I went online to try to figure out if they could prosecute us for being such terrible foster parents. There's no feeling on earth like worrying about your kids. When your kids are struggling, the worry takes on a life of its own. It makes you crazy."

"I'm not crazy, Bella."

"I know. I'm sorry – bad choice of words. I just mean that it can make you desperate." I don't want to push too hard on the subject of her "doctor," not when I came here to make peace, so I try to change the subject. "You didn't fail, Alice. You and Jasper built a great business. You have two great kids. You guys made some bad decisions, but you've also had some bad luck. You don't deserve everything that's happened to you."

"Just some of it?" She asks with a wan smile. I reach over to take her hand.

"Come to St. John, okay? The place we rented has a separate two-bedroom casita with a hot tub and everything, so you can have a little extra privacy if you want it. It feels like we've been divided for so long. I don't want us to be divided anymore."

"Do Rose and Emmett know everything?"

"I don't think so. I haven't told them anything, and I don't think Edward or Carlisle would have. They know that Carlisle's moving in with us, but that started because we thought Carlisle was lonely."

Alice scoffs. "That's another thing. My dad's too lonely to live alone, but he doesn't want to live with me?"

"That's just about space, hon. Believe me, Edward and I lived in that house with Esme and Carlisle for a few weeks, and we were on top of each other 24/7. We had no privacy. That's not about you. Talk to your dad, you'll see."

Alice nods and picks at her pajama pants.

"We all just need to talk more. Be more honest. And be kinder to one another. Starting tomorrow."

Alice rolls her eyes.

"Come with us, okay?"

Alice nods.

"Good. Can I give you a hug? And then can we eat some cheesecake?"

When I get home, I find Edward asleep on the couch in the living room, with ESPN on the TV, the video baby monitor in front of him, and his glasses falling off his face. I try to lift his glasses off without waking him up, but he stirs when I turn off the TV. He yawns and stretches, and when he sees me he shifts so his back is against the back of the sofa, leaving enough room for me to squeeze onto the couch with him. I lie down next to him and pull the blanket from the back of the couch over us. It takes Edward a little bit to warm up to talking when he wakes up, so I wait.

"Your mom called," Edward says after a couple dozey minutes.

I nod. "I talked to her on my way home."

"How'd it go with Alice?"

I sigh and press my face against his warm chest. "She's coming to St. John," I say after a moment.

"Was it okay?"

"She's been so lonely and sad, Edward." Tears fill my eyes as I think about it. "Dealing with so much shit, all alone…. Listening to her talk about how she couldn't tell us anything about what was going on, it just sounds so lonely."

Edward scratches my back. "Hey, you're the one who figured it out. You're helping her. You're fixing it."

"We've wasted so much time, talking about her instead of talking to her."

"All we can do is do better in the future. And we will."

I shake my head. "I should have done something sooner. When someone you love is struggling, you don't wait for them to ask for help."

"We all should've. You're not the only one at fault here. And, look, I feel terrible too. But you know that if she had come to you for help, you would've helped her in an instant. We've blamed her for too much, but she isn't completely blameless."

I nod, but that thought doesn't make me feel any better. "Hey, do you have your phone?"

He digs it out of his pocket and hands it to me, and I scroll through his texts until I find his conversation with Jasper.

 _Did you get a BJ from the teacher's aide?_ I text him. When Edward asks what I'm doing, I tell him the whole story.

 _No, I swear to God_ , Jasper responds.

 _So Maria made that up?_

 _Tara's hands were on my pants when Maria walked in. She made assumptions._

 _And she wanted to end your marriage_ , I text him.

 _She said it wasn't malicious. She said she felt bad for Alice._

"I kind of want to punch Jasper in the face right now," Edward says after I read Jasper's text aloud.

"Have you ever punched anyone in the face?" I ask him.

"I think I punched Emmett once, when I was little."

"How'd that go for you?"

"Mom said she sprayed us with the hose," he says, and I snort.

 _To be clear, we aren't having dinner with you and Maria anytime soon_ , I text Jasper.

"Bree and Riley had a fight."

"About what?"

"Riley was yelling at her about not wanting to be adopted. He said she doesn't want to be his sister anymore."

"Yeah, that's been percolating for a while. Did they resolve it?"

"She said she couldn't just turn her back on her father, and Riley said she was turning her back on him instead. It ended in some stomping and door-slamming, so I had to yell at them about waking the girls. I think they'll be fine in the morning. But she told him she wants to stay here, she's just not ready to tell her dad."

I nod. "She told me that too."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want to get your hopes up until I knew for sure. She's been doing this thing recently where she winds me up, says things she doesn't mean just to see how I'll respond. As soon as she made an actual decision, I would have told you."

Edward nods. "Riley said some nice stuff about us, I wish you could have heard it."

"Maybe we aren't the worst foster parents in the history of foster care."

He smiles. "Maybe."

"Are you guys making out?" I hear from across the room, and I lift my head above the back of the couch to see Riley standing in the doorway to the great room.

"Just talking."

"Did you finish packing?" Edward calls out to Riley as I climb off the couch.

"Almost," Riley calls back as he digs through the fridge. "Almost," I've learned, is teenage boy for "No."

"So no?" Edward says as he gets up, apparently on the same wavelength. Riley mumbles something around a mouthful of turkey. "What?"

"I had to throw a bunch of stuff in the laundry," Riley says after he swallows.

"It's a week on the beach, bud," Edward says. "Put your swim trunks and your toothbrush in your backpack."

"No. False," I say. "You need seven pairs of clean underwear. At least. And pants and a shirt, in case we go out to dinner. And real shoes, not just flip flops…."

"I know, Mom. Don't worry, I know how to pack."

I reach up to muss Riley's shaggy brown hair. "Don't stay up too late."

"Ehhh…" Edward starts.

"Unless you're staying up late to finish packing." I tug on his arm and he bends towards me so I can kiss his cheek.

The next morning is hectic as we get ready to leave for the airport. Riley fell asleep with all his favorite clothes in the washer, and the little ones don't understand why they can't take every single one of their toys for a week's vacation. Edward does his best to distract the girls while I help Riley finish packing. There are a great many wonderful things about chartering your own plane, but the one I appreciate most today is the fact that they won't take off without us.

We finally get six adults, nine children, five dogs, and a half ton of luggage loaded onto the plane a half hour after we were supposed to depart. Five hours later, we land on St. Thomas, and an hour after that, a water taxi delivers us to St. John. Eight hours after we left home, we get to our villa, just as the sun is setting. The kids can't wait to jump into the pool, and Edward offers to show Alice her casita next door while Carlisle boils a vat of spaghetti for dinner. With Rose and Emmett keeping an eye on the kids, I'm free to obsessively spy on Alice and Edward as they talk next door. It looks like a calm, friendly conversation, but I can't help worrying. I watch them hug, then close up the house and come back to the main villa. They both smile at me when they rejoin the crowd at the pool, and I guess that's all the information I'm going to get for now.

After we stuff our faces and put Cassie and Lulu to bed, I finally corner Edward in our bedroom.

"So? You and Alice are okay?"

He shrugs. "We're okay." He smiles at me, and I wonder where my melodramatic husband has gone.

"Say more words, Edward."

He stretches across our bed with his arms behind his head. "I apologized. I apologized even for some stuff that I don't think was my fault. I told her we would have helped her in an instant if she had asked, and she said she knew. I told her I wanted to punch Jasper." He shrugs again. "It was fine."

"Did you talk about Crestview?"

"Nah. I'm gonna leave it alone."

I must make some kind of face at Edward, because he laughs. "I'm serious. Maybe I'll bring it up down the road if the opportunity presents itself, but for now, it's not my money and they aren't my kids."

"Wow." I lie on the bed next to him. "Did you have a stroke sometime in the last 24 hours?"

He laughs. "I had a dream about my mom last night." I look up at him in surprise and he smiles at me. It's unusual for him to remember a dream, much less talk about it. "It was basically just a dream about yesterday, but Mom was there. Alice was there, with Jasper. I didn't think about everything that was missing yesterday, but when I woke up this morning, I was so sad. I had this really intense feeling of loss. Like everything we lost over the past couple years hit me all at once." He scratches his chest and I put my hand over his.

"I'm sorry, honey."

"Do you ever dream about your dad, and feel sad when you wake up?"

I nod. "It's terrible. It's like he dies all over again, in the instant I wake up."

Edward rubs my arm. "I've been thinking about it all day. Mom would hate what's happened. She never would have let this happen. I need to be more like her. We all need to try to be more like her."

I nod and cuddle closer to him. "You're a good man, Edward Cullen."

He hums. "Did you look at your email today?"

"Not yet."

"We got an email from Willa," he says. Willa is Cassie and Lulu's social worker. "Veronica's received her release date. She'll be out on January 15."

Sigh. "Okay."

"They've lined up a place in a sober living house in Rutland, so she's still got a ways to go before they'll consider giving the girls back to her. But Willa will start taking the girls for regular visits twice a month."

"Okay." Technically, Veronica was entitled to visits from her daughters while she was in jail, but she didn't want us to bring the girls to the jail, so we sent her photos and videos via the caseworker.

We're both quiet for a minute. "Are you?" Edward eventually asks. "Okay?"

I sigh. "You know what my favorite part of the day is?" I ask him.

"What?"

"Watching you try to put Cassie's hair in pigtails every morning." Cassie has wild curly hair, almost impossible to section neatly, but if you don't put it up, it turns into a huge knot.

He gasps. "Are you _spying_ on me?" I laugh. "You could help, you know."

"Nah. Doing her hair isn't nearly as fun as watching you do it."

He laughs, and we lie quietly for a minute. "Babies are nice," he says.

"Don't let Cassie hear you calling her a baby," I warn.

"Do you ever wish we had one of our own?" Edward asks.

I think for a moment. "I really don't. To me, that means thinking something is missing from our lives, and I don't think anything is missing. I love our life. I think we were meant to have these kids. Even if we only have them for a little while."

When Edward doesn't respond, I ask him, "Do _you_ ever wish we had one of our own?"

He sighs. "I don't think anything is missing from our lives, but I do sometimes think about the potential, you know? A little bit of you and a little bit of me, combined in a little person? I wonder what she would be like."

"That could be one grumpy, self-hating little person," I smile at him. He smiles back, but he looks sad. "Do you want to talk about this seriously? Having a baby?"

He shakes his head. "I'm just sad about the girls."

"I've always worried about having a kid and regretting it. It seems like not having a kid and regretting it could be just as painful." I rub his chest. "If you think you're going to regret it, I want you to talk to me."

He sighs, and lifts my hand to his mouth so he can kiss my palm.

"For now it's probably best if we stick to non-procreative sex," he smirks, and I roll my eyes.

"Is that your way of saying you want your blowjob?"

He shrugs, but his smirk widens to a smile. "Unless you're willing to revisit anal…"

"Edward, I told you, I'm willing to stick something up your butt any time you want."

He laughs, and I reach down to rub him through his jeans. He rolls on his side so we can kiss, and right after he pulls off my shirt, there's a knock on our door.

"Are you guys in there?" Bree calls out.

"One second, hon," I say, as Edward groans and rolls facedown on the bed.

I race from the bed to our bathroom and throw on my bathrobe.

"Sorry, honey, I was getting ready for bed," I tell her when I open the door. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, I just, um, wanted to tell you that I want you to adopt me." She looks down at the floor. "You, uh, told me I should tell you as soon as I decided." She looks up at us. "If you still want to."

I beam at her. "We do." I look at Edward, and he's smiling too. "Are you sure? What about your dad?"

She shrugs. "He barely knows me. I was talking to Riley, and he said, it's one thing if someone loves you because you have the same blood. It's something else if someone knows you, knows the worst stuff about you, and still loves you."

These kids. "You don't want to wait? Give your dad the chance to come around?"

She shakes her head. "It's been ten years. I'm tired of waiting. I was, um, hoping you would help me write him a letter," she says to me.

"Sure, honey. Can we do it tomorrow? I'm wiped out."

"Scuba diving tomorrow," Edward says, and I roll my eyes. Edward and Emmett have some big adventure scheduled every day we're here, and I just want to lay by the pool.

"Tomorrow night?" I say, and she nods. I pull her into a hug. "Love you, hon."

"I love you too," she says.

"And I love you both," Edward announces as he wraps his arms around both of us from behind me, making Bree and I laugh.

After Bree leaves, I turn to Edward, standing next to me with his hands on his hips and a big smile on his face – my favorite smile, the one that makes his eyes disappear.

"Celebratory blowjob?" He says, and I snort.

"Take off your pants, Cullen."

* * *

 _That's all, folks. No, I don't know why this chapter was all about blowjobs. The muse wants what it wants._

 _Thank you to everyone who read, reviewed or recommended this story. I'm sorry I haven't been able to reply to reviews, but I've struggled to scrape together enough time to write recently. Frankly, some of the reviews made me want to stop writing, too. This is a very, very personal story for me - I started writing it because I was struggling with some things that happened in my life, and I thought it might help me see those things from a different perspective if I wrote about them. It did, but it also made me kinda sensitive about criticism. I didn't expect anyone else to read or enjoy this story, and it's been such a pleasant surprise that you have._

 _I have an outline for another story, a very different story, and I'm excited about it. I still don't have a lot of time to write, so I want to get a few chapters written before I start posting, but I hope to post the first chapter within the next few months. If you enjoyed this story, I hope you'll keep an eye out. (It's set in an African refugee camp, so if your complaint about my writing is "it's too political," you probably want to avoid it. Also, you probably don't want to meet me IRL.)_

 _One last thing: foster kids are wonderful kids, and CASA (Court Appointed Special Advocates) programs are wonderful organizations. There are 950 CASA programs around the country, likely one near you, and if you've got extra money or extra time (and a willingness to make a long term volunteer commitment), I hope you'll look them up._


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